


Nothing Else Matters

by genevra1676



Series: The Black Album 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring Sam Winchester, Chef Dean Winchester, Creature Sam Winchester, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dean in Heat, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incubus Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, Kidnapping, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nightmares, Omega Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Owner Sam, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester, Panic Attacks, Panties-Wearing Dean Winchester, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Rimming, Sex Slave Dean, Slow Burn, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 157,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevra1676/pseuds/genevra1676
Summary: Sam Campbell is an incubus living in a city secretly controlled by a community of supernatural creatures.  When he purchases a human drifter named Dean Winchester at the Food Market, he gets far more than the easy meal he expected . . .





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wrapped in Honey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194219) by [lady emebalia (emebalia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emebalia/pseuds/lady%20emebalia). 



> This story is inspired by "Wrapped in Honey" by lady emebalia (emebalia), which is one of my favorite works on my bookmarks list. After rereading it for the umpteenth time, I decided to start working on my own version. I kept the same basic premise but have hopefully put my own spin on the story. I highly recommend reading the original if you haven't already, because it's very good.
> 
> As in the original story, this is set in a completely alternate universe in which Sam and Dean are not related and are not hunters. Mine also happens to be an A/B/O setting. In both stories, neither the location or the time are specified (i.e. Dean is 26 in my story, but it isn't necessarily 2005), so this can be set in any city and year in the SPN timeline. Please note that the dubious consent tag is included because of the master-slave relationship only.
> 
> Standard disclaimer: The words in this story are mine, but the original setting and characters belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, et al.

I parked in front of the large, nondescript concrete building, which looked just like all the other factories and warehouses around it, and wondered once again what the hell I was doing here.  The Food Market was the sort of place I usually wanted to shut down, even though I understood its necessity in a city with such a unique population.  The idea of buying other sentient beings for food had always seemed repugnant, perhaps because I didn’t need to kill in order to feed.

And yet here I was.  Luring in the appropriate prey was rarely a short or simple process, and I frequently neither had the time or energy to properly devote to the hunt.  Plus there was always the risk of discovery, no matter how careful I was.  Too many of my kind had suffered after feeding carelessly or going after the wrong person, and it was a danger I couldn’t continue to ignore, not even in this city.  Obtaining a steady, safe source of sustenance seemed like a sensible solution to both problems.

I sighed and forced myself to get out of the car.  There was a burly werewolf standing guard by the front entrance.  He looked me over, nostrils flaring, and then nodded and opened the door.  Inside was a typical lobby with a reception desk and waiting area.  The décor was tasteful, but there were no signs, logos, or other indications of the true purpose of this business, other than the security door behind the desk, guarded by another husky were.

The perky young wraith seated at the desk smiled pleasantly as I approached.  She said brightly, “Good evening, sir!  How can I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Mr. Briggs.  My name is Sam Campbell.”  I handed her a business card and tried to push my misgivings aside.

“Of course, Mr. Campbell!  I’ll let Mr. Briggs know you’re here.”  She picked up the phone, pressed a speed-dial button, and spoke briefly before glancing back up at me.  “Please go in.  He’s waiting for you downstairs.”

The werewolf opened the door behind her, which led to a staircase.  I swallowed nervously and went through, then started down the steps.  I heard the door close above me as I descended.  At the bottom of the stairs was another security door, which buzzed and clicked open when I reached for the knob.

As I stepped into through the doorway, an almost palpable wave of fear and unhappiness struck me, and I had to pause to keep from gagging.  My nature made me more sensitive to human emotions, and though I’d long learned to filter most of them out in day-to-day interactions, it was impossible to ignore the level of misery here.  I had a strong urge to turn and leave; the only thing keeping me going was the faint thought that in a way I’d be rescuing at least _one_ person from this wretched situation.

I surveyed the lower level once I got my nausea under control.  I was at the beginning of a wide corridor that ran the entire length of the building.  Side passages branched off every thirty feet, each one lined with a series of glass-fronted cells.  The blocks of cells were about fifteen feet tall, and the ceiling rose up an additional fifteen feet above that.  Armed guards stood at the mouths of every other hallway, and more patrolled on top of the cell blocks.  Despite what had to be a staggering number of prisoners kept here, the entire floor was almost eerily quiet, the only sound being the low conversations of other customers and footsteps of the guards.

A heavyset ghoul in a decent-quality suit drew near, smiling unctuously.  His manner became positively obsequious when he took in my scent.  “Ah, Mr. Campbell, I’m _so_ glad to see you!  I’m Mr. Briggs, lead salesman here at the Market.”  He extended a fleshy hand.

After we shook, he continued.  “This is your first time visiting our fine establishment, correct?  My apologies for the err, . . . _atmosphere_ here, but it’s unavoidable given the nature of our business.  But we want to do _everything_ we can to make this an enjoyable experience for you.  A happy customer is a repeat customer, after all!  Would you like a glass of water or wine or other refreshment?  No?

“Let me start by assuring you that we offer the _highest_ quality of product here at the Food Market.  All our stock is quarantined upon arrival and goes through rigorous testing to ensure they are free of disease or defect before they’re brought to the showroom floor.  We also check their backgrounds carefully to make sure their disappearances won’t attract any unwonted attention.  Our motto is ‘Discreet, clean, and safe.’

“We have the _widest_ range of merchandise here than anyplace else in the community.  Whatever a customer might be looking for, we’re guaranteed to have.  We have all sexes, ages, ethnicities and any size, body type, coloring, or other physical characteristics you might want.  On the off-chance that none of the current selections here suit your tastes, you can give us your specifications, and we’ll notify you when we receive a more appropriate commodity.  Any questions so far, sir?”

I shook my head.  His practiced sales-pitch and the fact that he never used the words “humans” or “people” to refer to those being sold in this place made me feel ill again.  _And_ hypocritical for trying to pretend that _my_ purpose today was any nobler than the other creatures shopping for a meal here.

Briggs rubbed his hands together eagerly.  “Well then, Mr. Campbell, how _can_ we help you tonight?  What are you looking for?”

I cleared my throat.  “Um, male, early to mid-twenties in age, attractive appearance.  I’m afraid I can’t be more specific.  I’ll have to see and talk to the person to determine if he’ll . . . suit.”

“Of course, of course!  Will this purchase be for short-term disposal or for more long-term use?”  His expression attempted to be coy.

I tried to keep my disgust hidden as I replied, “Long-term.  So compatibility is a high priority.”

“If I may be indelicate, is there a particular price point we should stay below?”

“My budget is flexible.  I’m willing to be negotiable about the price _if_ I find the right man.”  I felt even dirtier after saying this.

Briggs cocked his head and eyed me appraisingly for a moment before smiling broadly.  “Mr. Campbell, you’re in luck!  I think I have the _perfect_ sample to meet your needs.  Please follow me, sir.”

He led me down the main corridor and through a door at the end.  We walked past what appeared to be several private viewing rooms and through yet another door.  This room held a number of smaller cells whose glass fronts were opaque and dark. 

The ghoul strolled to the far side of the room and stopped in front of one of the last cells.  “We house the more unusual and valuable stock in this room.  I think this _particular_ item will appeal to you.”  He pressed a button, and the glass turned transparent.  A buzzer sounded inside the cell, and its occupant got to his feet and moved closer to the front.

My breath caught, because the young man in the cell was _stunning_.  He looked to be in his mid-twenties and was fairly tall, perhaps five or six inches shorter than I.  He had broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and hips and long, bowed legs, and what I could see of his figure in the cheap white scrubs he was wearing was leanly muscled.  His dark gold hair was short and spiky, his green eyes were large and fringed with impossibly long lashes, and his fair skin was smooth and flecked with cinnamon freckles.  His cheekbones were high, his nose straight and narrow, his jaw sharp and chiseled, and his mouth full and sensual. 

I saw Briggs press another button out of the corner of my eye, and vents in the thick glass pane opened.  I froze in shock as the rich, sweet scent of an unclaimed omega wafted out of the cell.  Even among the prolific human population, omegas were rare and highly sought after.  Some found careers in modeling or acting, but most were snapped up as trophy spouses for the rich and powerful.  In all my long life, I’d only had the opportunity to feed on an omega a handful of times, and I’d never heard rumor of any being sold through the Market before.

Briggs took in my astonished expression with a self-satisfied smile.  “Magnificent, isn’t it?  This specimen is Dean Winchester, age twenty-six.  We suspected it might be an omega when it was first brought in due to its physical appearance, and we received confirmation when the scent blockers it’d been using wore off in quarantine.  So once it passed all the necessary tests, we naturally brought it here.  It is _quite_ a prized find, as we’ve had the privilege of offering an omega for sale _very_ few times.  You’re one of the first customers I’ve shown this one to.

“Despite that, have no fear that anyone will coming looking for it.  The father is serving a life sentence in prison, and there’s been no sign of contact between them since before the trial.  We found no record of any other living relatives, other than a foster father who took custody after the sire was incarcerated.  This particular commodity has been a drifter since reaching legal majority; therefore its sudden disappearance will hardly be a surprise to anyone.  So Mr. Campbell, what do you think?”

I stepped up to the glass pane to take a closer look at the young man, who stared right back.  His form was exquisite and his movements graceful, and I could already feel the first stirrings of desire based on his looks and scent alone.  Above and beyond that, his defiant glare, raised chin, and set jaw indicated he had spirit as well.

I moved back and glanced over at the salesman.  “I’m interested, of course.  I’d like a chance to talk to him in private first though, before making any decisions.”

“Certainly, sir!  We can bring it to one of the viewing rooms for you.  Would you like to have it stripped for a thorough appraisal?” he asked.

I shot a startled look in his direction.  “ _No!_   Um . . . that won’t be necessary.”

Briggs nodded and guided me to a private room.  As I seated myself, he said, “One of the guards will be bringing the merchandise here shortly.  You’re welcome to touch it, but please refrain from any intercourse or feeding until after the purchase is finalized.  Once you’re done with your evaluation or if you need assistance, press the buzzer here and the guard will return.”

He left me alone after that.  A couple minutes later, a guard opened the door and pushed Dean, who was restrained with shackles on wrists and ankles, inside before quickly shutting the door.  I gestured at one of the other chairs, and he sat slowly and looked at me sullenly.

I resisted the urge to squirm under that resentful stare.  “Hello, Dean.  My name is Sam.  How—how are you doing?”

“Sam, huh?  Well, this ain’t a goddamn social call!  Whaddya fucking want?” he snapped in a deep voice.

“Do you know what this place is?  It’s called the Food Market, and it’s where vampires, ghouls, and worse all buy their meals.  All the things that want to drink your blood, eat your liver, or snack on your pituitary gland shop here.  And if no one buys you after a certain length of time, you get fed to the werewolves and other creatures who run this place,” I said.

“Yeah, the sonsofbitches in charge of this shithole made it _real_ damn clear what’s going on when I got here,” the omega spat.  His words were bold, but his face was pale, and he was trembling slightly.  “So what’s _your_ fucking deal?  You wanna rip my heart out too, or use my intestines as a jump rope, or some shit like that?”

“I’m not here to kill you or even hurt you,” I assured him.  “I’m an incubus, which means I feed on sexual energy.  I’m looking for someone to take to bed periodically, and that’s it.  So what would you prefer to do?  You can come home with me, or you can take your chances here with the next buyer.  Someone like you is guaranteed to get snapped up quick, and the other customers’ needs might not be as pleasant.”

“Gee, what a _great_ fucking choice!  I get to pick between getting eaten alive _or_ getting raped on a regular basis,” he sneered.  His anger and fear had increased, which was _not_ my intent.

I flinched.  “God no, nothing like _that_!  I—I should’ve explained this better.  I feed on sexual _pleasure_ , so my partner has to be willing _and_ enjoying himself or I get nothing out of it.  I won’t force you, and I won’t do anything that you don’t like.  And outside of when I need to feed, I’ll try my best to make you comfortable.”

Dean gave me a long, suspicious look and then threw his hands up in the air.  “Fine!  It ain’t like I got any better options in this fucking dump.  So I guess I’ll come with you.”

I smiled at him tentatively.  “Great!  I have to be honest—this is my first time, um, buying someone from here, so I don’t know what to expect.  I . . . I hope that you’ll find what I’m offering you is acceptable.”

He still looked concerned but seemed less frightened.  “Don’t suppose you’ll let me go eventually?”

I shook my head.  “Sorry, I can’t.  We’ve survived undetected for as long as we have by following certain rules, and one of those is controlling who does or doesn’t know about us.”

He sighed.  “Figures.  Okay, so what happens next?”

“I’ll talk to the salesman and see what red-tape I have to deal with, and then I’ll take you home,” I said.

I pressed the buzzer, and the guard came in.  Before the werewolf could reach for him, the young man shuffled out.  After a few minutes, Briggs walked into the viewing room and sat down across from me.

Before he could open his mouth, I said, “I’ll take him.  How much?”

He named a figure that made me wince.  My counter-offer caused him to clutch at his chest.  We haggled for the better part of a half-hour before eventually agreeing on a price.  It was more than twice what I’d expected to pay before coming here, but nowhere close to the exorbitant highway robbery of his initial quote.  He left to draw up the sales contract, while I pulled out my checkbook to pay for the transaction.

The ghoul returned in under ten minutes with several forms.  Before handing them over, he asked, “How would you like to take custody of your acquisition once we’re done?  We can deliver it directly to your home or any other location of your choice.  Or, if you’re only buying the one piece, you can take it from here yourself.  We of course will tranquilize it first to avoid any difficulties in transport.”

“I’ll take him home myself,” I replied firmly.

He nodded genially.  “Excellent.  Included in the sale is a spell that will confine your new possession to whatever area you deem fit, whether that is a single room or your entire house.  Once the spell is in place, your merchandise won’t be able to cross its boundaries.  It also can’t harm you, itself, or anyone else or damage any of your other valuables within the bounds of the spell.  Instructions to cast, remove, and modify the spell will be included with your copy of the contract.

“In addition, we can provide other means to assist in managing your purchase, free of charge.  We can supply you with handcuffs, shackles, leashes, and other restraints.  Or if you’d prefer something less obtrusive, we have spells or drugs to keep it docile and compliant.  Many of our customers with a long-term asset like this also make use of our services to properly break it in and train it.” 

My skin crawled at the thought of his suggestions, and I shook my head emphatically.  “ _No_ , thank you!  The first spell should be sufficient.  If . . . if it turns out I need anything more, I’ll contact you.”

“Of course, Mr. Campbell.  I doubt an alpha like _you_ will have trouble controlling one young omega.  Now, if you’ll please sign on each of the flagged lines?  Then once you hand over your payment, we can finalize this transaction.”

As much as I wanted to get out of here right away, I made sure to read through the sales contract carefully before signing anything.  The document spelled out the terms of the sale and included clauses for return of my new property if he turned out to be unsatisfactory, liability if he caused harm to anyone’s person or belongings, and consequences if he escaped.  After confirming that there were no unpleasant surprises, I quickly signed and returned the contract and added the completed check.

Briggs added his signature to the appropriate places and gave back one copy of all the documents.  He also handed me a small manila envelope.  “Congratulations, you are now the owner of one Dean Winchester.  After we’re done here, you can bring your car around to the loading dock to pick up your property.  In the envelope are the possessions it had on it when it came to this facility.  We threw out its shoddy clothing and destroyed its cellphone upon capture, but everything else of potential interest is in there to do with as you see fit.”

I opened the envelope and dumped its contents onto the table.  There was a worn wallet containing a driver’s license, a small amount of cash, a few scraps of paper, and a couple photos—one of Dean with an older bearded man and one of him leaning against a gleaming black muscle car.  Next to that were a Swiss army knife and a keyring with a rifle bullet, a set of Chevrolet keys, and a single house key.  In addition, there was a grooved silver ring, a military-style wristwatch, a mala bracelet of wooden skull beads, and a strange bronze amulet of a horned head on a leather thong.  I pushed everything back into the envelope and resealed it.

The salesman stood and shook my hand.  “It was a _pleasure_ doing business with you, Mr. Campbell.  My business card is attached to your copy of the forms.  Please feel free to call me at _any_ time regarding your purchase, or if you wish to acquire additional merchandise in the future.  Good evening!”

I left the room and went down the main corridor and back upstairs.  As instructed, I drove around to the back of the building, where two large weres carried my unconscious new companion to the car and laid him out on the backseat. 

He was still in the white scrubs but now sported a gold collar around his neck.  It was designed to pass as a piece of jewelry, but anyone in the community would recognize what it truly was.  There was also a small bandage between his shoulder blades where an RFID tag had been injected.  His wrists and ankles were bound with zip-ties.

Once the werewolves went back inside, I pulled out a pocket knife and cut the zip-ties.  I buckled Dean in as best I could and covered him with a blanket.  I then got in the car and left the Food Market, hopefully for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my 2nd A/B/O story, and like my 1st will not include certain aspects of the trope, such as mpreg or knotting. If a character's designation isn't specified, assume that they're a beta. Betas are by far the most common group in this world, to the point where the narrator doesn't see it as worth mentioning. Alphas make up about a quarter of the population, omegas less than a tenth, and everyone else is beta. I imagine the rarity of omegas is due to past generations tending to abort or kill omega babies because they were considered less valuable, like some countries treat girl babies today. (And yes, omega!Dean here is a little smaller than canon Dean, in case anyone noticed.)
> 
> One of the things my story will try to do is explore the idea of the supernatural community in more detail. So this version of the Food Market is more slick and professional (at least on the surface), though of course we're currently only seeing it from the customers' side.
> 
> As I mentioned before, this is still a work-in-progress, so the chapter count and tags will be updated as the writing progresses. This story will update weekly on Mondays, usually in the evening. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy author. :)


	2. Chapter 2

I drove back to my apartment building without incident and parked in my usual spot in the underground garage.  I decided to bring Dean up myself, even though I could’ve called on a bellhop for assistance.  The owner of this high-rise and its staff and tenants were members of the community, and I was hardly the first occupant here to bring someone home from the Market.  Instead, I folded the papers and stuffed them and the envelope of his belongings into a pocket and hefted the omega up in a bridal-style hold.  I carried him into the elevator and rode up to my floor.

Once inside my apartment, I settled Dean on the couch in the living room and made sure he was resting comfortably.  I straightened but paused with my hand on his hair, feeling the soft texture beneath my fingers and breathing in the heady aroma of unmated omega.  I still couldn’t quite believe my good fortune.  It might be an old-fashioned notion, but there were few alphas who _didn’t_ secretly long for an omega of their own.

I then sat in an armchair to read the various instructions I’d been given.  One explained that the sedative he’d been given should keep him out for a couple hours, and that he would be groggy and disoriented for a while after waking but should suffer no ill effects other than possibly mild headache and nausea.  Another went into the purpose and uses for the implanted tracker and the collar.  The last was the containment spell the Market had provided.

My first order of business was setting the spell.  I perused the directions a couple more times until I figured out how to adjust the parameters the way I wanted.  Once I was ready, I stood in the center of the apartment and recited the Latin phrases out loud.  There was a bright flash of orange light, presumably indicating that the spell was active.  I’d never dabbled much in magic before, so I’d have to wait until the other man woke up to see if it was effective.

My next task was to finish installing the network of wireless security cameras around the apartment.  I felt like a total creeper as I put them into place and set up the software on my work laptop.  But I knew I couldn’t leave Dean alone and unsupervised for hours while I was at the office—both for my protection and his safety, I needed to be able to monitor him when I was away.  After that was done, I locked the laptop, my cellphone and tablet, and the wireless router in the safe in my bedroom.

Dean was starting to stir by this point, so I went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.  My cooking skills were fairly abysmal, and my usual habit was to either eat out or have my meals delivered.  As neither of those were an option tonight, I thought that making pasta would be an easy alternative.  The spaghetti came out a bit gummy, and the sauce was on the runny side, but I hoped it would be acceptable.

I heard a groan from the couch just as I was finishing, so I set a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table and sat back down in the armchair.  After a couple of minutes, he rubbed a hand over his face and struggled to sit upright, his eyes still shut.  I had to suppress the urge to help him up.

Instead I said quietly, “How are you feeling?  There’s ibuprofen in front of you if your head hurts.  If you’re feeling queasy, I can get you ginger ale or Pepto-Bismol.”

The omega’s eyes shot open with a spike of fear at the sound of my voice, and he scrambled back to the other end of the couch, as far away from me as he could get without falling off.  Glad that he didn’t try to stand—he‘d definitely fall in his current state, and I wasn’t sure if I could catch him in time—I merely pushed the glass of water towards him.

I waited until he picked it up and took a cautious sip before continuing.  “I’m really sorry that they doped you up, but I figured that was preferable to being subjected to their delivery methods.  We’re in my apartment now though, and you’re completely safe.  No one will hurt you here, including me.”

He coughed to clear his throat.  “Except I’m still a fucking prisoner, and _now_ I’m a damn sex slave too.”

I winced at his statement.  “Yeah, about that . . . Let me try to explain the situation fully so there’re no misunderstandings.  First, there’s now the same spell on this place as they use at the Market, to prevent you from leaving here or hurting anyone, including me or yourself.  For right now, the boundaries are the walls of this apartment, but I can expand them later if you prove you can be trusted.  When you’re feeling steadier on your feet, we can test the limits on the spell; magic’s not my thing, so I need to see if I cast it correctly.

“Second, everyone in this building is part of the supernatural community—that means residents _and_ employees.  So even if you did manage to get out of the apartment, anyone else here will see that collar and know to detain you until I can pick you up.  And by the way, the collar is spelled too—it can’t be cut off, and it’ll issue a debilitating electrical charge if you try to approach the city’s boundaries.  The Food Market also implanted you with an RFID chip, so I can track you if you escape.”

Dean’s eyes went wide.  “The whole _building_?  Sonofabitch!  How many of you monsters _are_ there here?”

“In most places, not that many.  But we _own_ this city.  You name it—police officers, judges, government officials, reporters, emergency dispatchers and responders, bankers, businessmen, and more—we’ve got people in all those roles, and others with the ability to strongly influence what we don’t control outright.  There are other apartment buildings like this throughout the city, and other businesses besides the Food Market which cater to the community’s needs,” I explained.

“I’m telling you this so you understand that trying to run is futile—our people will simply find you and bring you back, and if you’re fortunate they won’t hurt you in the process.  There _are_ rules governing . . . err, owning humans.  That gold collar, for example, shows that you’re mine and _valued_ , so no one else is supposed to lay a hand on you without my permission.  But like anywhere, there are those in the community who’ll bend or break those rules if they can.  That’s why it’s safest for you here with me.  No one will come to this apartment when I’m not around, and I won’t let anyone else touch you.”

The other man’s face was pale, and he radiated shock.  “You—you _gotta_ be shitting me, right?  Th—there ain’t no way—not a whole _city_!  And no one—no regular people—knows ‘bout it?”

“It’s the truth, man.  The community has been running this city for a _long_ time, and we’ve gotten very good at what we do.  That includes knowing how to keep all this away from the attention of the rest of the world.  Which is why I can’t let you go.  You know too much about us already and could potentially cause a lot of trouble if you managed to say something to the wrong people.  And I don’t know how well I can protect you if certain members decide that you’re a threat to the community.”

I stood and held out a hand.  “Why don’t we eat before the food gets cold?  The rest of what I want to tell you isn’t so ominous, I promise.”

He stared at me for a moment before taking my hand.  I helped him get to his feet and walk over to the kitchen, where I sat him at the breakfast bar.  I filled two plates with spaghetti and meat sauce and added grated cheese to both.

As I placed one of the plates in front of the omega, I said anxiously, “I hope the food turned out okay.  I don’t usually cook much—I survive on restaurants and take-out mostly.  But I didn’t want to leave you alone, even just to run down to the lobby to meet the delivery guy, while you’re still wobbly from the drugs.  I figured even _I_ couldn’t mess up pasta too badly.”

He took a mouthful and grimaced, then chewed and swallowed quickly.  “It . . . it ain’t the worst I’ve eaten.  But . . . if I’m gonna be stuck here for a while, maybe . . . maybe you should lemme take over the cooking.”

I laughed nervously.  “I might take you up on that!  Anyway, onto a more pleasant topic!  You have full run of this apartment, and I want you to treat it like your own home.  You have your own bedroom and bathroom, which I’ll take you to after we finish eating.  And I’ll show you around the rest of the apartment tomorrow when you’re not doped up on sedatives.

“But in the meantime, there’s the TV here in the living room—it only has cable, but I do get all the premium channels.  There’s a bigger TV with a Blu-Ray player and a pretty good selection of movies in the media room, and also a couple gaming consoles with a bunch of games.  There’re other games on my desktop computer in the library, and of course all the books and magazines in there.  I can’t give you unsupervised Internet access, but when I’m around, just ask whenever you want to look up something.”

Dean gazed at me noncommittally.  “This seems like awfully considerate treatment for a piece of property, dude.”

“Listen, I _don’t_ think of you as a—a possession, and I’m sorry for how those assholes at the Market handled you.  I absolutely _hate_ that damn place, though I’m glad I found you there tonight.  I won’t treat you like you’re just a _thing_ , and while I can’t control the entire community, I _will_ make sure the people I know behave with respect towards you,” I said.

“You talk ‘bout respect and hating that place, but you still fucking _bought_ a person there,” he pointed out.

“I know, and I’m _not_ proud of myself right now,” I admitted.  “But necessity makes strange bedfellows.  I don’t always have the time to go to a bar or club and woo a willing partner when I’m hungry.  And there’s always the risk of discovery or of someone getting hurt, especially if I’m rushed.  I tried to resist for the longest time, but I eventually realized that I needed a more regular . . . um, food source.  You have to admit, being bought by me _is_ better than most of the alternatives there.”

He shrugged.  “Jury’s still out on that—I’ve only been around you a little while.  So what exactly d’ya expect for this—this sex thing?”

“First of all, there’s no rush.  I made sure to feed well a couple days ago, so I won’t be hungry again for a while.  I want to give you a chance to get to know me and get more comfortable before anything happens.  After that point, I’ll need to feed at least a couple of times a month.  Aside from that, we can do as much or as little as you want, including keeping everything completely platonic outside of the feedings if that’s your preference.  I can definitely promise that I’ll _never_ make you do anything in bed you don’t want—not only because I wouldn’t get anything from it, but also because I just—just _couldn’t_ force anyone like that.”  I shuddered at the thought.

I noticed at that point that he seemed to be done eating.  I put both plates in the sink and turned back to him.  “Before we go anywhere else, can you try to see if you can go out the front door?  I need to see if the spell works.  If it doesn’t . . . I’ll let you leave.  It’ll cause all kinds of problems with the community, but I just _can’t_ tie you up or drug you to keep you here.”

The omega looked at me, wide-eyed in surprise, and I slipped an arm around his shoulders for support as I led him towards the front entranceway.  He cautiously took a couple steps forward and stood in front of the door.  I could see him straining, but he didn’t move.  He turned towards me and strained again.

His shoulders slumped.  “I can’t.  Can’t make myself fucking move to open the goddamn door.  Can’t punch you either, so the not being able to hurt anyone part works too.”

I patted his shoulder soothingly.  “I’m sorry you couldn’t leave for your sake, even though it would’ve been a _huge_ pain in the ass for me.  It’s not much consolation, but I do hope you’ll learn to enjoy being here eventually.  Would you like to see your room now?  I imagine you could use a good night’s sleep after everything today.”

He nodded, and I guided him down one of the side hallways and stopped at a door near the end.  “That last door leads to my room.  This one here is yours—I thought it would work best since it has its own en-suite bathroom.”  I opened the door as I spoke.

Dean walked in first, and I remained quiet while he looked around.  This used to be the largest of the guest bedrooms and had a queen bed, two nightstands, dresser, desk and matching chair, and an armchair with ottoman in one corner.  One door led to a small walk-in closet, the other to a fully-appointed bathroom.  The furniture was a simple Shaker style, and the floors—the same hardwood as throughout the rest of the apartment—and white walls were bare.  Despite that, he seemed pleased.

“I meant what I said that this is _your_ room, Dean.  I won’t come in here unless you ask, and you’ll be the only one with the key to the lock on the door.  I intentionally kept everything in here simple so that you can decorate it as you like,” I told him.  “Feel free to add or alter whatever you want.  That includes the furniture too—it’s all new, so I can still return it if you prefer something else.  There’s a couple of home decorating catalogs on the desk you can look through, and just let me know if you want to order anything. 

“I left a couple of my t-shirts and sweatpants in the closet so you can change out of the crap from the Market.  I’m going to go out tomorrow to get you more to wear, so give me a list of what you’d like and your sizes.  There’s a couple of clothing catalogs on the desk as well.  And if there’s anything else you want in here, like a TV or radio or whatever, you simply need to ask.”

He gave me a surprised look.  “I dunno what to say, man.  It’s . . . I ain’t ever had a room like this of my own, least not as big or as nice.  I . . .”

“You don’t have to say anything.  I know this situation is very awkward, to say the least, but I really _do_ want you to be as happy as possible.  If you need anything tonight, feel free to knock on my door.  Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning.”  I dropped a kiss on his forehead and left.

I got up a couple hours later to use the bathroom and decided to check on my new houseguest.  The door to his room was open, and no one was inside when I cautiously peered in.  I moved towards the main living area, where I found Dean by the front door again with an intense look on his face.

I sighed and quietly walked up behind him.  “There’s no use in trying that, Dean.  From what I’ve been told, the Market and its customers have been using this spell for years, and no one’s managed to break it.  Listen, I understand that—”

He whirled and scowled up at me.  “You don’t know _anything_ , you sonofabitch!  _You_ ain’t the one who was drugged and kidnapped off the street, and then had to spend hours trapped in the back of a truck with a dozen other victims.  _You_ ain’t the one who had to watch as the—the _things_ they have on guard tore some poor bastard apart to show us what would happen if anyone tried to run.  _You_ ain’t the one who was stripped, poked, prodded, and locked in a goddamn cage for days.  _You_ ain’t the one who was sold like a piece of fucking meat and now has to whore himself out or _die_!”

I put a hand on his shoulder.  “No, I never had to go through anything like that, and I’m very sorry that you did.  I can’t undo what happened to you in the past, and the best I can do now is make your life here with me as pleasant as I can.  I promise you that _no one_ is going to hurt or kill you, including me, no matter what happens.”

“Yeah, whatever.  Talk is cheap,” he said bitterly before shrugging my hand off and returning to his room.

I awoke the next morning to the smell of frying bacon.  I threw on a robe and followed my nose to the kitchen, where Dean was standing in front of the stove with a full frying pan of sizzling bacon.  A plate full of cheesy, fluffy scrambled eggs, another of toast, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice waited near the breakfast bar.  He’d changed into one of my t-shirts and pair of sweatpants, and the too-large clothes made him look younger and simply _adorable_.  Not to mention that his fresh, sweet odor was even more tantalizing that that of the food.

He threw me an apprehensive glance as I sat down.  “Uh, hope you don’t mind that I started making breakfast without asking.  You got a pretty well-stocked fridge for someone who don’t cook, so I thought I’d throw something together.  Took me a while to figure out your coffee maker though—thing needs a fucking degree in astrophysics to operate!”

“I meant what I said last night—I want to you think of this as your home too, Dean.  You don’t need my permission to use the kitchen or anything else in the apartment,” I assured him.  “And my housekeeper picked up the food.  She comes once a week and normally just cleans.  But she came across me trying to put together a list of groceries to get before I brought someone here, and she offered to take care of it.  Everything you’re making looks wonderful!”

He shrugged and began transferring the bacon from the pan to a paper towel-covered plate.  We each filled up a plate and concentrated on our food for several minutes.  What he’d prepared was _far_ better than anything I could make, and I happily dug in.

After a while, the young man looked up at me.  “Got some questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

His expression became truculent.  “What am I supposed to call you?  ‘Cause if you expect me to say ‘Master’ or “Sir’ or some shit like that—”

I held up a hand.  “God, no!  I’d feel fucking mortified if you called me that!  Sam is just fine.”

He looked somewhat mollified.  “Okay.  What does your ‘feeding’ involve?  D’ya hafta . . . bite me or something?”

“No, no, nothing like _that_.  I simply absorb the energy you give off when you experience sexual desire and pleasure.  You’ll feel the loss afterward, though it should become less noticeable over time.  If I feed only the minimum number of times per month, you’ll initially feel tired for about a day later.  If the feedings are more frequent, I’ll need to take less each time, so the aftereffects will be less too,” I explained.  “There’s no danger to you as long as you have enough time to replenish in between.”

“And if you don’t gimme enough time?”

“Then you’ll grow weaker and eventually die,” I admitted.  “But that _won’t_ happen!  I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve _never_ hurt anyone during feeding.”

He eyed me for a moment, then went on.  “So you’re an alpha, and you obviously know I’m a damn omega.  D’ya . . .  _expect_ anything outta that?”

I shook my head.  “I told you I’ll never force you into anything, and that _definitely_ includes mating!  I mean, sure, what alpha wouldn’t want an omega as a mate?  But it’s meaningless if the bonding isn’t consensual.”

A relieved look came across his face, and his wariness lessened somewhat.  “Good.  So, uh . . . you said I could ask you for anything, right?  Can I ask for things besides actual stuff?”

“Certainly!  And I’ll do my best to make it happen, whatever it is.  Except for letting you go, of course.  What do you want?”

The other man’s gaze dropped to his plate.  “I—I wanna make a phone call.  I was on the way to my . . . I guess he’s kinda my adopted dad.  Anyways, I was heading to his house when I got nabbed by the Market douchebags.  It’s been a few days, and he’s probably worried sick.  An—and I need him to pick up my car from where I got grabbed.  She’s real important to me, and I don’t want her to end up in an impound lot or a fucking chop shop.”  His big green eyes met mine pleadingly.

I found myself unable resist that look.  “Sure, as long as you promise not to say anything about where you are or why you’re here.  I’ll put the phone on speaker, and I’ll have my finger on the End button, just to be safe.”

“Whatever you want, man, as long as I can make the call!  And there’s something else.”

“Go ahead.”

His chin lifted and his jaw set.  “I wanna go back on the suppressants, but all my stuff is back with my car.  I _need_ to be in control of my heats, ‘cause I ain’t letting _any_ asshole try to come after me while he thinks the hormones are running the show.”

“Sure, we can do that.  I want to have a doctor check you out anyways, and we can ask her to get you a script.  That reminds me though.  Wait right here.”  I went into my bedroom and returned with the manila envelope, which I handed to Dean.  “I can’t do anything about your other belongings, but here’s everything important that was on you when you were caught.”

He dumped out the envelope and immediately put on the amulet and ring.  “Wow, I didn’t think I’d see any of this again!  Thanks, Sam.”  He felt pleased.

I put a hand on his shoulder.  “You don’t need to thank me.  They shouldn’t have taken your things from you in the first place.  Now, let me show you around the apartment, and then you can have your phone call.”

He nodded, and I led him into the living room.  “You saw this room a little bit last night.  This is where I hang out when I just want to watch TV or when there’re guests over.  Over there’s the dining room.  I don’t eat there unless I’ve got company—I usually eat in the kitchen or here in front of the TV.  And you’ve obviously explored the kitchen on your own this morning.  You’re _definitely_ welcome to take it over, since I’m no cook!”

I gave him a few minutes to explore the rooms, and I caught him wistfully stroking the keys of the baby grand piano that had come with the apartment when he thought I wasn’t looking.  I then steered him over to a glass door set into one of the floor-to-ceiling windows which lined three of the exterior walls of the apartment.  Through the door was the terrace, which housed the pool, grill, entertaining area, and several empty planter beds.

“This is the terrace.  I’m afraid the boundaries of the spell stop at the door right now.  But once I feel that you won’t try anything drastic, I’ll extend them so you can go out there,” I told him.

I took him to the entrance of the first of the two hallways extending behind the kitchen.  “You’ve already seen the important parts of the bedroom wing.  The other doors lead to a hall bathroom there, some closets, and a couple more guest bedrooms.  I honestly don’t get that many overnight guests, so you can turn one of those rooms into a studio or workshop or study of your own if you want.”

I then led him down the second hallway, where I showed him the library, media room, game room, gym, and storage room.  I made sure to point out the various entertainment systems and anything else that could catch his interest.

Dean was looking rather dazed by the time we returned to the kitchen.  “Sonofabitch!  How big _is_ this damn place?  Is this the fucking penthouse?”

I smiled.  “Not quite, though the penthouse apartment is on the floor above us.  This apartment takes up about half of this floor.  Outside is a hallway for the elevator, emergency stairs, and the entrance to the other apartment.  I’ll introduce you to our neighbor in time.”

“What d’ya do to _pay_ for all this—rob banks or something?” he asked incredulously.

I laughed at that.  “I’m a lawyer at one of the biggest firms in the city.  We handle the legal matters for most of the community—criminal, financial, and property issues, wills, contracts, litigation, et cetera.  I bring home a good bit of money from that.  I also have income from various investments I’ve made over the years.”

“Great, so you work for fucking Wolfram and Hart!  Just how old _are_ you?  You look a coupla years younger than me, but you gotta be older if you earned all _this_ on your own.”

“I’m close to two hundred years old.  Incubi age very slowly and live for a long time.”  I pulled out my phone and put it on the counter.  “Let’s make your call.  I want to go out afterward to get you some clothes.”

The other man picked it up and entered a phone number, then set it between us as it started to ring.  I pressed the speaker button and hovered a finger over the End Call button.  It kept ringing, to the point where I was about to suggest we try again at a later time.

Just before I was going to hang up, a gruff male voice came on the line.  “Singer Auto and Salvage Yard.  Whaddya want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my version of Sam is more aware of how complicated this will be than the original. He realizes the moral issues of owning another sentient being and the difficulties in trying to control said person. There's still a lot he has to learn about this situation, but he doesn't think it's the cakewalk that Sam in the original story started out believing it was going to be.
> 
> This Sam is also being more upfront about the community so that Dean understands exactly what he's up against and is possibly dissuaded from doing anything rash. I'm always of the opinion that the boys would have a fraction of the problems on the show if they would fracking TALK to each other, so my versions tend to be less close-mouthed than in canon.
> 
> This story is still in progress, so the tags and chapter count will be updated as needed. New chapters will be posted on Mondays unless otherwise stated. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Dean swallowed, and his eyes looked misty.  “H—Hey, Bobby!  It’s Dean.”

“Boy, where the _hell_ have you been?  Are you in trouble again?” the other man barked, worry evident in his tone.  “You called me over a _week_ ago to say you were coming over in a coupla days, and then bupkis!  I tried calling your cell phone, but the number ain’t in service anymore.  I was ‘bout ready to go to Sheriff Mills and file a missing person’s report!”

“I’m real sorry ‘bout that, man.  I left Poughkeepsie on Tuesday and was on my way to your place when something came up.  I’m okay, but I had to stop to take care of it.  Probably for the best though—I dunno how many people were on the road when I stopped.  My phone got stolen, so I wasn’t able to call you before.”

“Poughkeepsie, huh?  So how long will it be before you can get here?”

Dean’s voice was wistful as he replied.  “I—I dunno right now, Bobby.  I got a buncha stuff I gotta take care of here, so it’ll . . . it’ll probably be a while.  Listen, can you go pick up Baby?  I had to leave her behind, and I don’t want something to happen to her.  Here’s the address of where she should be at.”  He rattled off the street address of someplace nearly a day’s drive away.

Bobby’s voice softened.  “Sure, son, I’ll take care of your girl.  I can’t go today, but I should be able to drive out there tomorrow.  Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Not right now.  I—I ain’t sure when I can call you again.  Might not be too soon.  You take care, old man.”  With that, Dean hung up and stared at the counter, blinking back tears.

I felt guilty.  It was obvious that this Bobby, who had to be the foster father Briggs had mentioned, cared a lot about the young man in front of me, and Dean clearly reciprocated his feelings.  His drifter status hadn’t precluded him from having someone who missed him, despite the ghoul’s assurances.

I cleared my throat.  “You can call him again, if you’d like.  Same rules as just now.”

The omega fixed me with a fierce glare.  “And tell him what?  He ain’t gonna be satisfied with the vague bullshit I just fed him for long, and _you_ ain’t gonna lemme tell him anything more.  So what’s the fucking point, asshat?”  He stomped over to the sink and turned on the faucet.

I walked over and turned him around to face me.  “I’m sorry.  I know this is a _really_ shitty situation.  I wish I could change it, but I _can’t_ —even if I could let you go, the community can’t afford the risk.  They’d hunt you down, and if you’re _lucky_ , they’d just bring you back here.  Or they could kill you or do something even worse.  And it could put your friend Bobby in danger too, if they think that you might’ve told him something.

“But I’m serious about calling him later.  He’s going to keep worrying about you otherwise.  And . . . I think _you_ need to hear from him too.”  I put a hand under his chin to tilt his face up and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He sighed and shrugged.  “Whatever.  I guess I can come up with some kinda cover story before I call him again.  I would like to make sure that my Baby is okay.”

I smiled at him.  “Great, then you can call him back in a couple of days!  In the meantime, did you manage to put together a list of what clothes you need?”

“Yeah, lemme go get it.”  Dean hurried to his room and returned with a piece of paper, which he handed to me.

I looked it over.  The list seemed fairly basic—boxer briefs, straight-leg or bootcut jeans, plain t-shirts, plaid or twill work shirts, and work boots, all with sizes.  “Is there anything else you’d like me to get you?  Like a radio or something?  Or toiletries?  I left some in your bathroom, but I don’t know if there are specific brands you prefer.”

“Hmm, yeah, something to play music would be awesome.  And I didn’t think ‘bout bathroom shit.  Lemme have that back.”  He continued to talk as he wrote.  “Haven’t had a chance to go through the catalogs yet, so maybe I’ll do that while you’re out.  I do wanna paint the walls in there, but I dunno how yet.  Alright, that should be it for right now.”

I took the list back.  “Okay then.  If there’s anything else you think of later, I can pick it up after work one day next week, or we can order it online.”

I quickly got dressed and then knocked on the door to his bedroom.  I opened it and saw Dean lying on his stomach on the bed and leafing through one of the catalogs.  The others were piled next to him.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself for a couple hours?” I asked anxiously.

He rolled his eyes.  “Not a little kid, dude.  When I get tired of these catalogs, I’ll check out some of the other stuff in the apartment.  I’ll be _fine_.”

As much as I wanted to hurry back, the shopping took longer than I expected.  I was fairly efficient when shopping for myself—I knew my sizes and my tastes, so I was usually in and out of a store in half an hour.  But buying things for Dean was different.  I not only wanted to make a good impression, but I also had the urge to pamper him, as I suspected he’d not had much in his life before.  So I took more time to try to select things I thought he’d like.

When I returned to the apartment, I dropped the bags off in the living room and went searching for the omega.  I felt a momentary apprehension when I didn’t see him in the main living area or his room, but soon found him watching _Batman Begins_ in the media room.

He sat up in the recliner when he saw me.  “There you are!  I was starting to think the mall rats were holding you hostage!  I made you a sandwich and stuck it in the fridge since I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”

“Sorry, man.  I didn’t think it’d take _that_ long.  Why don’t you come into the living room and see what I got you?”  I held out a hand.

Dean paused the movie, got up, and took my hand.  I led him back to the living room and waved him towards the couch.  His eyes widened as he took in the number of bags.

“What did you do—buy half the fucking mall?” he asked as he sat down.

I shrugged.  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a wider selection.  If there’s anything you don’t care for or doesn’t fit, put it aside.  I’ll return it later.”

He began pulling the purchases out of the bag and sorting them into piles.  In addition to the shirts he’d requested, I picked him up some Henleys, thermal tops, and casual button-downs.  I’d made sure the jeans were fitted and got him a couple corduroy pants as well.  There were a pair of work boots and a pair of casual oxfords.  Beyond the clothes, I purchased an iPod with a speaker dock and headphones, a Kindle, and the toiletries he’d asked for.

“This is way more than I expected!  I thought you’d just get a couple each of what was on my list, not a whole new wardrobe.”  He was quiet for a moment, then gave me a direct stare.  “This stuff is great, but . . .  Gilding the bars doesn’t change the fact that this is still a cage.”

I sighed and sat in the armchair.  “I get that, I do.  But like I said before, I can’t change this situation, so the best I can do is make it as pleasant as possible.  And really, _I’m_ not the one you should be pissed at, you know.  I’m not the douchebag who kidnapped you and brought you to the Food Market.  Since you were already there, at least you got me instead of someone who planned to kill you or keep you in an _actual_ cage or worse.”

“So what, you expect me to be fucking _grateful_ for this shit?  For being trapped inside this damn apartment for the rest of my life, or at least until I go batshit crazy?  For being forced to do whatever the hell you want because you fucking _own_ me?” the omega spat.

“I would never _force_ you!” I exclaimed.  “I told you, I’m willing to wait until you’re ready, and to do whatever I can to—to ease this process.  And this isn’t just about what I need to feed—this is because of who I _am_!”

“Rationalize it all you want, Sam, but it _still_ ain’t consent if my only choice is going along with your demands or going back to _that_ goddamn place to be fucking monster chow!”

I leaned over and clasped both of his hands.  “Dean, I _promise_ you that I will _never_ take you back to the Market, no matter what!  And you _won’t_ be stuck inside here forever either.  Once you’ve learned to—to accept these . . . circumstances, you’ll be able to go anywhere in the city with me.  You’re not the only person brought from the Market for . . . um, long-term purposes, and most of those others _aren’t_ kept locked up.”

To my surprise, Dean jerked his hands away and moved back, his face pale and his eyes wide in fear.  “I’ll fucking _bet_!  The assholes on guard back there used to swap stories of the shit they’d be hired to do to those poor bastards to _break_ them into being obedient little Stepford wives.  And then they’d leer at me and the others in that fucking ‘special merchandise’ room, like they couldn’t wait until it was _our_ turn!”

I leaned back too, suddenly feeling nauseous.  “God, no!  That will _never_ happen, I swear!  I understand that you don’t know me yet and have no reason to believe me.  But I am _not_ like those fucking savages!  I’m going to find a way to make this work _without_ hurting you or anyone else.”

He studied me for several minutes and seemed to calm down.  “You really believe that, don’t ya?  I think you’re being pretty fucking naïve, but hey, it ain’t like I got much choice in the matter.  So I guess I’ll hafta see how this shit plays out.”

I got myself under control and nodded.  “I’ll help you take all this back to your room.  Try the clothes on whenever you have a chance, and let me know if there’s anything you want me to return or exchange.”

After carrying his new belongings to his room and showing him how to set up the iPod and Kindle—both were configured to have wifi access only to their respective app stores—I left him alone.  The other man spent most of the afternoon in there, and he went straight to the kitchen when he emerged.  I noticed right away that he’d changed into some of his new clothes, and seeing him wearing things that flattered his figure and played to his coloring did unhealthy things to my self-control.

I got up from where I was reading in the living room and cleared my throat before speaking.  “Are you—are you feeling any better?  And please, you don’t have to cook for us if you don’t want to.  I can always order delivery or go pick something up.”

Dean straightened up from the fridge and sighed.  “It’s okay, man.  I actually like cooking, at least when I get the chance.  I mostly had to feed myself growing up, and there’s only so many times you can eat Chef Boyardee and Lucky Charms.  So I kinda taught myself some stuff, and Bobby lemme check out his wife’s old cookbooks whenever I stayed with him.  So don’t worry ‘bout _this_.

“And . . . I was thinking earlier ‘bout this whole mess.  I get that you’re trying to make the best outta this fucked-up situation and do right by me in your way.  I ain’t saying you’re off the hook for _buying_ a person, not by a long shot!  But if you’re on the up-and-up, then I guess better it was you who picked me up than someone who’d only look at me as a walking Happy Meal.  And I also get that snarling at you ain’t gonna accomplish anything except make us both miserable.”

I walked over and put my hands on his shoulders.  “I’m glad that you’re not as upset.  At the same time, please don’t hide how you’re feeling because of me.  I want—no, I _need_ you to tell me whenever something I’m doing is bothering you, okay?”

He met my eyes with a small smile.  “No mind-reading, huh?”

“Sorry, no.  Incubi can sense emotions—it’s kind of important to know if someone’s into you or not—but that’s the extent of our psychic abilities.”

“So you’re a less sexy version of Deanna Troi then.”  The smile grew into a grin.  “Okay, now get outta the kitchen if you want dinner!”

After an amazing meal of spaghetti bolognese and garlic bread (which put my attempt the previous night even more to shame), we spent a few hours watching movies in the media room.  Dean tried to play it cool, but it wasn’t long before I discovered that he was an _enormous_ geek when it came to movies and TV shows.  We were both in a pretty good mood when we finally retired to our separate rooms.

Sometime after midnight, my peaceful sleep was shattered by a terrified scream.  I shot upright in my bed and realized that it had come from Dean’s room, and that more sounds of fear and surges of panic were emanating from that direction.  I hurriedly threw on a robe and ran to his door.  I knocked first and called his name a couple of times.  When I received no response, I tried the knob, hoping I wouldn’t need to break the door down.  Fortunately it was unlocked, and I rushed inside.

Dean was thrashing on the bed and crying out, still fast asleep.  The few coherent words I could make out were mostly “no,” “please,” “don’t,” and “stop.”  I felt ill, thinking that maybe I was the cause of his nightmare, until I recognized that another word he was saying repeatedly was “Dad.”

I sat on the edge of his bed and tried calling his name again without touching him, but he didn’t wake.  I then caught him by the upper arms and pulled him onto my lap, wrapping my own arms around him to contain his struggles.  I began to rock him gently and rub his arms and back soothingly, murmuring words of reassurance.  His shouting and writhing slowly died down, until he was sobbing quietly against my chest.  I continued to hold and comfort him, occasionally dropping soft kisses on his face.

Eventually he calmed down enough to sit back and try to scrub at his face.  I pushed his hands away and carefully wiped away the evidence of his tears with the corner of my robe.  Anyone else would look a mess, but he was still beautiful—wide eyes glistening, long lashes wet, fair skin flushed, full lips swollen.

“Wh—why are you here, Sam?” the omega asked hoarsely.

“I’m sorry—I know I told you I wouldn’t come in here unasked.  But when I heard you scream, I initially was afraid you were being attacked.  Then when I saw how distressed you were, I couldn’t just leave you to suffer alone,” I told him.  “How are you feeling right now?”

“Like shit that got run over and set on fire.  But I’ll—I’ll be okay in a little bit.  S—sorry you had to see all that.  It’s something that happens once in a while.  Ain’t no big deal,” he said self-deprecatingly.

“I beg to differ, man.  What I just saw was more than a ‘naked in front of the classroom’ or ‘killer clowns chasing me’ sort of dream.  You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want, but you can’t ignore it,” I said calmly but firmly.

“You’re right ‘bout one thing—I _don’t_ wanna talk ‘bout it.  I’ve been living with this for years now and ain’t gone off the deep end yet.  So like I said, I’m _fine,_ ” he responded dismissively.

I could tell that he was hardly alright, but I also knew that there wasn’t enough between us yet to convince him to confide in me.  Instead I sighed and shifted until I was leaning back against the headboard. 

“Do you want me to stay for a while?  Just to make sure the nightmares don’t return,” I said, looking down at him in concern.

Once he nodded, I helped him settle down in the bed.  I then stepped into his bathroom and returned with a damp washcloth, which I used to clean his face properly.  I tossed it towards the bathroom and lay down on top of the covers, tucking my robe around myself modestly.  I wanted to make it clear that I wasn’t _expecting_ anything from him tonight.

After a couple minutes, Dean turned to face me.  “I still don’t get it.  Wh—why are you wasting so much time on me?  I’m just a fuck-toy to you, and even the people who _know_ me—except Bobby—wouldn’t give this much of a shit ‘bout my problems.”

“First off, I’ve been trying to explain that I _don’t_ want a sex-slave.  I’m looking for a—a _companion_ at the very least.  I may not know you well yet, but what I _have_ seen is someone who I’d very much like to be my friend.  And I don’t know about the other people you know, but I try to take care of my friends,” I said, wondering what could’ve given a strong, smart, gorgeous man like this such a low opinion of himself.

I continued, “Second, if this Bobby of yours is someone who you respect, and if _he_ thinks you’re worth worrying and caring about, then there’s got to be something good there, right?  If those other people don’t see that, then they’re a bunch of dumbasses.  I could tell just from that short phone conversation how much Bobby loves you, and I think _his_ view of you should matter more than anyone else’s.”

He sighed.  “Let’s see if you feel the same once you _do_ know me.”

I dropped a light kiss on his forehead.  “I think I will.  Now try to go to sleep, okay?  I’ll make sure nothing else happens tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I should briefly explain that my version of A/B/O will be a little different that more "traditional" settings, particularly for those who haven't read my previous A/B/O story. I initially didn't read A/B/O stories at all because I thought the concept was too weird, and there are still aspects of it that I don't care for. Mpreg is a biological impossibility, and knotting veers too close to bestiality for my tastes. Calling babies "pups" drives me nuts, because the characters are still human, not dogs. And I HATE the tendency in some stories to present non-con or dub-con, especially during heat, as acceptable or even "sexy." These are things that won't make me stop reading a story (except the last), but they won't ever show up in anything that I write. So if you're expecting any of that here, sorry to disappoint. What interests me more in an A/B/O setting is the interpersonal and cultural relationships between the designations. (And hot alpha-omega sex, of course!)
> 
> I meant to post this update earlier today, but I had my first chemo treatment on Friday and spent most of today in bed. New chapters will continue to be posted on Mondays. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and I woke up the next morning to find Dean curled up against me with an arm thrown over my chest.  I lay there and admired how relaxed and young he looked while asleep, his intoxicating smell filling my nostrils.  When he started to stir, however, I quietly slipped out of his bed and returned to my room, not wanting to make him to feel uncomfortable.

By the time I’d showered, shaved, and dressed, he was up and rummaging around in the kitchen.  After being politely but firmly told to stay out of the way, I sat at the breakfast bar and watched as he whipped up batter from scratch and then cooked up a large stack of fluffy pancakes.  While the pancakes were cooling, he sliced up some bananas and strawberries for toppings, and I decided I could safely retrieve the syrup and butter without being snapped at.

Once I’d stuffed myself to the point of groaning—and made a mental note that I’d have to use the gym more if he kept feeding me like this—I said, “There’s a doctor coming over later this morning to give you a physical.  She was recommended to me by the Market and, more importantly, by some of the people I’ve talked to who have long-term human companions.  Dr. Talbot should be here in about an hour and a half.”

“And then I can get my suppressants?” the omega asked as he started to stack the dirty dishes.

“Sure, and anything else you need.  And leave the dishes for me—it’s the least I can do if you’re going to be feeding me such delicious meals!” I replied while taking the dishes from his hands.  “You go do something more fun until she arrives.”

“I did have a question ‘bout that.  How come you still eat regular food if you live offa . . . um, sex vibes?”  He looked at me curiously.

“Incubi require both, actually.  We need physical sustenance to feed the body and sexual energy to feed the soul and power our abilities.  Without either, we’d grow weak and die, just like you’d starve to death without food,” I told him as I started to rinse the soiled plates.  “There are books on incubi and on other supernatural creatures in the library, if you’re interested.”

His expression became concerned.  “What if I ain’t—ain’t ready by the time you get . . . hungry again?  I know you said you wouldn’t push me, but I don’t wanna see you get hurt ‘cause of me.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dean,” I said, feeling touched.  “It’ll be at least a couple of weeks before I’ll need to feed again.  And if you still require more time by that point, I’ll simply go out and find someone else to tide me over for another week or two.  I don’t mind a little inconvenience if it will help you feel better about all this.”

Dean nodded, still looking a little worried, and wandered off.  After rinsing everything and loading the dishwasher, I found him in the library.  He was seated in an armchair poring through a book on incubi and succubi, one which detailed our biology, history, and culture.  Another book, an overview of the major supernatural races and their abilities, sat on the table beside him.  I noted that both came from the science shelves as opposed to the mythology section.

“I see you decided to take my advice,” I commented as I sat at the desk.

“Huh?  Oh, yeah.  Figured it’d be better if I know what I’m dealing with.”  A smile suddenly crossed his face.  “Man, Bobby would _love_ to get his hands on some of these!  He’s got a lotta old books on myths and legends and shit, kinda like what you got over there.  But he ain’t got these sorta books, which I assume were written by people in your, uh, community.”

“That’s right.  Did you read any of those old books?”

“Yeah, some of ‘em,” he replied, looking a little guilty.  “I remember that they said that you guys—incubi and succubi, I mean—are a kinda minor demon.  But these books say that ain’t true.”

“Mythology and religion tend to get a lot of the details wrong,” I said.  “It’s still interesting to study them and compare them to reality though.”

I pulled out a book on Chaucer, and we read in companionable silence for a while.  When the doorbell rang about an hour later, we both stood, and he followed me into the living room.  He took a seat on the sofa while I answered the door.

Dr. Bela Talbot was an attractive, bronze-haired woman in her late twenties, dressed in a high-quality blouse and slacks.  She was also human, which I could tell was a surprise to Dean.  She walked in briskly, wheeling a small luggage case behind her.

“Sam Campbell, I presume?” she said in a crisp British accent while shaking my hand.  She then nodded towards the other man.  “I take it that’s your new purchase, yes?”

“His name is Dean, and he’s a person, not a piece of meat,” I responded calmly.

“It’s like that, is it?  Very well.  Please ask it—I’m sorry, _him_ —to remove all of his clothes so I can examine him properly,” she said coolly before beginning to unpack her case.

“Do I get a hospital gown or something, or d’ya expect me to sit here butt-naked the whole time?” Dean demanded indignantly.

When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to acknowledge him, I suggested, “Why don’t you undress in your room and put on a robe?”

He snorted and left, returning in a few minutes clad in a green silk bathrobe.  The doctor donned a pair of latex gloves and proceeded to measure his weight, height, blood pressure, temperature, pulse, and reflexes and examine his eyes, ears, throat, and breathing.  He took her manhandling without complaint, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he erupted.

“He seems to be in good health so far.  He is a bit underweight for his height and frame though, so make sure that he eats enough,” she told me as she brought out a syringe and several blood collection tubes.  “I’m now going to draw blood for some tests.  The physicians at the Food Market tested for disease but not cholesterol level, blood cell count, thyroid and other hormone levels, et cetera.  Will he behave, or should you hold him down?”

“Lady, I’m right here, and I ain’t deaf or mute,” he complained irritably.  “And no, I ain’t gonna fight you over a fucking needle.”

She continued to look at me until I nodded.  When she turned away, I rolled my eyes where Dean could see me, which brought a brief smirk to his face.  She drew his blood efficiently and carefully stored the filled vials.

“It will take a few days to receive the test results.  In the meantime, given where most of the stock at the Market comes from, I suggest feeding him a complete multi-vitamin once a day,” Bela said.  “I now need him to lie back so I can perform an androcological exam.”

The omega blushed but lay down on the couch with minimal grumbling.  I turned away to give him some semblance of privacy while she performed the exam and then turned back when I heard him sit up and pull his robe closed.

The doctor put away her speculum and removed her gloves before speaking.  “Everything appears well-formed.  There’s no hymen and some scarring in his omega channel, so he may have seen rough use in the past.  However, there’s nothing to indicate that he can’t perform properly in the duties which he was purchased for.  Given his overall size and impertinent attitude though, I recommend having him gelded to prevent more aggressive behavior.  The surgery is safe, has a fairly quick recovery time, and results in minimal scarring, but if you prefer, there are chemical options as well.”

Dean’s face tightened when she mentioned the condition of his channel and then paled when she brought up castration, and he shrank back and dropped a protective hand over his groin.  I immediately put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, both to reassure him and to keep him from exploding once he recovered from the shock.

I then growled angrily, my eyes flashing red, “I reiterate, Dean is a _person_ , and I refuse to allow anyone to treat him like a fucking animal!  Bring up something barbaric like this again, and I _will_ evict you forcibly from this apartment!  For that manner, I demand that you treat him with courtesy and decency from here on, or I’ll find the services of a doctor who _wasn’t_ raised in a goddamn cave!”

Bela seemed taken aback at my vehemence.  “I see you’re _not_ the usual sort of customer the Market gets.  My apologies, then.  Do you— _either_ of you—have any questions or concerns?”

“Yeah.  I need a prescription for heat cycle suppressants.  I lost my pills when I got abducted,” Dean said.

“Do you know the dosage you were taking, and how long have you been on them?” she asked, her voice chill as she addressed him directly for the first time.

“Uh, I think fifty milligrams twice a day.  And I’ve been taking ‘em every day since I was sixteen.”

She now looked shocked.  “You’ve been on suppressants non-stop for _ten years_?  Do you have _any_ idea of the risks of taking them for so long, you damn fool?  They should _never_ be taken for more than two years at a time, with at _least_ two years in between!  There is _no_ way that I’m prescribing you any more!”

She raised a hand before he could protest and continued angrily, “This has nothing to do with your current situation, Dean.  _No_ reputable doctor would write this prescription—given how long you’ve been on them, you’ve either been seeing a quack or obtaining the suppressants illegally.  As it is, we’re going to have to monitor your health very closely for the next few years to make sure you haven’t developed any complications.  And your next heat or two will be _extremely_ strong as your body weans itself off this poison.  Now, do you have any other requests that _aren’t_ bloody suicide?”

“Is it safe for him to go off the suppressants cold-turkey like this?” I asked anxiously.

“Normally I’d prescribe a decreasing dose of the suppressant over the course of a few weeks to ease the process.  But given how long he’s been using them already, I’m concerned that giving him _any_ could be even more detrimental to his health.  The strong heats will be unpleasant for him but not dangerous,” the doctor explained.

The young man shot to his feet and stalked over to her.  “Listen, lady, I don’t care ‘bout the fucking risks!  I _need_ those damn suppressants!  I can’t . . . I _can’t_ go through any of this heat shit!  Hell, if I could find a way to stop being a goddamn omega, I fucking would!  You just _gotta_ give me this prescription!”

She put her hands on her hips.  “The answer is still _No_!  I don’t know what you’re whining on about anyway.  Plenty of people would _love_ to be like you—pampered because you’re lovely and desirable and practically guaranteed a rich, powerful mate and a cushy life.  Look at you right now—luxurious apartment, designer clothes, and an alpha willing to pay for my services and whatever else you need.  And _you’re_ better off than most omegas, since Sam here is not only far better-looking but also seems kinder and more respectful than most of the disgusting old bastards who can afford your kind.”

He laughed incredulously.  “You think it’s _easy_ to be a fucking omega?  D’ya know what it’s like, growing up with everyone thinking you ain’t anything more than a glorified sex toy?  To not be able to learn what you want or do what you want ‘cause your damn teachers constantly tell you, ‘You don’t need to study that, you just need to know how to attract the right mate.’  How many omegas d’ya know that get to be doctors or lawyers or _anything_ other than pretty arm candy?  Lots of us have aspirations _other_ than being the next Anna Nicole Smith, but we’re still expected to smile and spread our legs for whichever rich dick essentially buys us off our fucking families.

“And on top of not having any control over our own futures, we don’t even have control of our fucking _bodies_ either!  These goddamn heats that you think ain’t no big deal take us over, leave us open to being used, being _abused_ by any alpha nearby, and we can’t stop it!  If we’re _lucky_ , the alpha that’s bending us over might treat us well, but if we ain’t, then our own damn bodies are offering us up to be raped!  So don’t you fucking tell me how I’m better off this way!”

“I’m sorry that you’re not happy with your lot in life, but I’m not going to help you poison yourself any further.”  Bela turned to me.  “I’ll order more tests on his bloodwork to see if there are any problems as a result of the suppressant abuse.  My office will call you with the results in about a week.  If we find anything troubling, you may have to find a way to bring him in for an ultrasound or MRI.  We’ll discuss that if it becomes necessary.  In the meantime, have a good day.”

She took the handle of her case, and I walked her to the door.  As I opened it, I asked quietly, “How soon before his heats start up again?”

“It generally takes about a month from when someone stops taking the suppressants for enough to clear their system to start the cycle again.  Since male omegas don’t go into heat as frequently, it’ll probably be one to two months after that,” she replied just as quietly.

When I turned back after she left, Dean was staring at me pleadingly.  His face was pale once more, and he had his arms wrapped around himself.  “You gotta find a way to get me these, Sam, _please_!  There’s gotta be another fucking doctor or something,” he begged as I approached.

I shook my head.  “I’m sorry, Dean, but she’s right.  I’ve heard about the side effects from being on those pills too long, including hormone imbalances, increased risk of several types of cancer, strokes, and more.  If I’d known you’d been taking them for so long, I wouldn’t have agreed about asking the doctor for more.”

He shouted, “I don’t fucking _care_ ‘bout that shit!  You don’t understand . . . I _can’t_ go through that again!  I—I—”

He fell back against the couch, clutching at his chest and gasping for air.  I managed to catch him in my arms as he began to hyperventilate, his skin even paler and now clammy as well, his body trembling, and his heart pounding.  I could feel the panic overwhelming him, clouding his thoughts and sending his body into overdrive.

I pulled him into my lap, held him close, and began rubbing his arms and back soothingly.  As I did this, I also murmured reassuringly, “It’s okay, Dean.  Take slow, deep breaths.  There’s nothing to be afraid of—I won’t let anything happen to you.  You’re safe here, so just breathe.”

It took several minutes of comforting and encouragement before his breathing and heart rate started to slow down and his shaking to stop.  He kept his face buried in my chest for several minutes, and I continued to stroke his back gently.  Eventually he seemed to be resting more peacefully, other than an occasional sniffle.

I put a hand under Dean’s chin to tilt his face up so I could look in his wet green eyes.  “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong now if you don’t want, just like with the nightmares.  But I’m here to help you work it out.  _No one_ can get to you in this apartment, even during your heats.  If you’re still afraid, you can lock yourself in your room for the entire time, and I’ll be glad to bring you food or whatever else you need.  If you’re not comfortable with an alpha around, I can stay at a hotel and have a trustworthy beta friend stay here with you instead until it’s over.  The bottom line is that you _don’t_ need to deal with this alone.”

I placed a finger on his lips before he could open them.  “And you don’t need to ask why.  I told you before—I would like us to be friends, and friends take care of each other.”

He sighed and leaned against me for a moment longer, then sat up and slid off my lap.  “Sorry, man.  This is now the second time in less than a day that I’ve completely freaked out on you.  I wouldn’t blame you if you wanna return me to the scratchy-denty bin.”

While he wiped at his face and tried to compose himself, I went to the kitchen and returned with a damp paper towel and two sodas.  After handing him the towel and setting the cans on the coffee table, I responded, “You’re _never_ going back to the fucking Market, not for any reason.  And don’t apologize for what happened.  Everyone has issues of some kind, and some are worse than others.”

Once he’d cleaned his face and taken a swig of his drink, I added.  “I never really thought before about how tough it is to be an omega, even in this day and age.  Is that why you moved around so much—to keep from getting married off?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” Dean muttered but didn’t elaborate further.

“Well, I can’t fix what’s wrong with society, but I can try to make things better for you,” I said.  “Is there anything you wanted to learn but weren’t given the opportunity?  College courses, for example?  There’s also cooking lessons or music lessons—I’ve seen you eyeing the piano over there.  Or anything else you might be interested in.”

“I appreciate the thought, but how the hell am I supposed to go to school if I can’t leave this fucking apartment?”

“You might not be able to go to school, at least not now, but the school can come to you.  I can hire tutors to come here to teach you whatever you want,” I explained.  “And I’m talking about more than just lessons.  I’m serious about taking over one of the spare bedrooms for your own space to do what you want.  You can pursue hobbies you already have or try out new ones.  If you need tools, supplies, books, or whatever, I’ll get them for you.  If you need more space, we can convert the storage room too.”

“Ain’t all this gonna be expensive?  You already bought me all those clothes and shit yesterday, and today you’re paying for the doc and her tests.  Now you’re talking ‘bout tutors and tools and more?  How d’ya know I’m worth any of this?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about the money, Dean.  I make more than enough to support this lifestyle, and I also have a few nest eggs stashed here and there.  I’m no Scrooge McDuck—I’d rather spend some of what I have on you than hoard it all.  And I mean what I’ve been saying about wanting you to be as happy as possible here.  The books, movies, and games in this apartment will keep you busy for only so long, and I’d prefer you have things to do that you enjoy instead of going stir-crazy while I’m away at work.  You don’t need to decide right away; just let me know when you think of something you want.”

He stared at me wonderingly.  “You really _are_ serious ‘bout this!  You ain’t much of a monster, ya know—more like Sulley than Grendel.”

I smiled.  “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.  Most of the community _is_ just people, even if they have strange abilities or eating habits.  And despite the existence of places like the Food Market, there are plenty of them who don’t kill humans to survive—they make use of blood banks, funeral homes, morgues, butchers, and the like.”

“I guess I’ll see for myself if I ever get a chance to meet any of these people.  Now I oughta go get dressed.  I know you’re trying to a gentleman, but sitting in this robe with my ass ‘bout to hang out ain’t helping.”  The other man got up and retired to his bedroom.

He returned a few minutes later, once again dressed in fitted jeans and a soft greenish-grey henley, and picked up his soda.  “There’s one thing I don’t get.  You guys have all these rules to keep regular people—uh, humans, from finding out ‘bout your community, right?  So how come Dr. Talbot, who’s human, knows what the hell’s going on?”

“First, regarding the good doctor—what a _bitch_!  I’d been warned that her bedside manner leaves something to be desired, but _dude_!”  After Dean grinned in response, I went on, “There _are_ human members of the community.  A number of my co-workers are human, as are some of the employees in most of the businesses we control.  Most witches and psychics are human, and not all members of those families are gifted.  Others work with us because the money or power is good or because they owe a debt of some kind.  Some do find out by accident and then decide it’s better to join us than . . . disappear.

“A few even originally came through the Market—you and I aren’t the only ones is this sort of position.  And _they’re_ why I think that this doesn’t have to be a prison sentence for you—we _can_ find a way to make this work out for both of us.  When there’s a chance, I’d like to introduce you to some of them.”

“Huh!  But at the same time, that douchebag doc was serious ‘bout having me neutered like a fucking dog!  Not to mention the sicko guards who were looking forward to breaking me in!  And the way they treated the prisoners who weren’t ‘special’ merchandise . . . you _don’t_ wanna know!  So it ain’t all kittens and roses for people like me,” he pointed out.

I sighed.  “You’re right.  To be honest, the success stories seem to be the exception, not the rule.  Most of the humans bought from the Market, not counting the poor souls who are killed almost right away, are treated at best as pets and at worst as slaves, but never as _people_.  It’s one of the reasons I’m afraid about letting you out without me, if we can get to that point—I don’t trust the sorts who treat their human companions like that not to behave the same way towards you if I’m not there.  But there are more and more members of the community starting to think like I do, so I hope this is a situation that will improve in the future.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he said cynically.  “In the meantime, those sonsofbitches are still grinding people into the dirt, when they ain’t outright killing ‘em!”

I raised my hands.  “Hey, I didn’t create these fucked-up circumstances!  And as much as I’d like to, I don’t have the power to shut down the Food Market or end the slave system here.  So how about a truce?  I’m going to order us a pizza for lunch, since I doubt you’re in the mood to cook right now.”

I spent the rest of the day trying to keep the omega in a good mood.  We played _Call of Duty_ and _Borderlands_ on the Xbox, and then he kicked my ass at pool.  After he made steak and baked potatoes for dinner, we enjoyed a _Back to the Future_ marathon in the media room.  By the time I left him at his bedroom door, he was smiling and joking, with no sign of the morning’s panic attack.

And yet, I was once again woken up a few hours later by Dean’s frightened cries.  I quickly threw on boxers and a robe and rushed into his bedroom.  Like the previous night, he was tossing and shouting, trapped in the throes of another nightmare.  I sat down, pulled him into my arms, and comforted him until he woke up.  He calmed down faster this time and managed to get up on his own to wash his face.  After he returned to the bed, I lay down beside him without a word.

He watched me get settled with a bemused expression on his face.  “You don’t hafta do this, man.  I’m sure your bed is way more comfortable.”

I shrugged.  “This bed is fine.  Even if it wasn’t, I’d put up with it if it helps keep your nightmares at bay.  Now try to get back to sleep.”

He yawned.  “Thanks, Sam.  I . . . I really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome, Dean.  I’m glad if I can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the Bela we all know and love. For as much as we all loved to hate her, I always felt her sudden death at the end of S3 was a waste. She was a strong female character who wasn't a potential love interest or maternal figure, and we got hints of her backstory only in the episode where she died. I don't know yet how much she'll get used in this story, but hopefully we'll get a chance to play with her more.
> 
> We also get a taste of what this society is like for the different designations, or at least for omegas. I didn't want to set up something with a overt caste system, like the many A/B/O settings where omegas are second-class citizens or even property. This is more insidious--there are no laws giving alphas preferential treatment or putting omegas down, just plenty of the stereotypical behaviors and bigoted assumptions that allowed sexism, racism, etc. to flourish in our own culture over the years.
> 
> I didn't get much writing done last week while recovering from my first chemo treatment. But the worst of the symptoms seem to have passed, so I hope this week will be more productive. New chapters will continue to be posted weekly on Mondays. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was already up and preparing French toast when I woke up.  I stumbled into the kitchen yawning and fixed myself a cup of coffee first.  I then sat at the breakfast to watch him work, and soon a loaded plate was placed in front of me.

“Oh man, this is _good_!” I exclaimed after a few mouthfuls.  “Listen, I know you enjoy cooking, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to make every meal.  I’m fine with cereal or bagels for breakfast and sandwiches or frozen pizza for lunch or dinner—which is the sort of things even _I_ can make—or ordering delivery sometimes.”

He shrugged.  “Hey, it’s the least I can do.  You’ve been getting me all this stuff, and you’ve been giving me space ‘bout the . . . feeding thing.  Not to mention dealing with my fucking nightmares and breakdowns and not prying or giving me shit.  If it ain’t for the fact that you bought me . . .”

“But I _did_ buy you, and so you’re not here by choice.  Therefore, you don’t _owe_ me a thing,” I said.  “So if you don’t feel like cooking, just say so and we’ll do something else.  Okay?”

He stuffed a giant piece of French toast in his mouth and nodded.  After polishing off most of what was on his plate, he looked at me diffidently.  “I was thinking ‘bout what you said yesterday, and . . . and I’d like to take you up on that offer for music lessons—piano and . . . maybe guitar too?”

“Of course!  Acoustic or electric, so I know what to get?”

The omega gaped for a moment.  “You’re gonna _get_ me a . . .  Uh, electric, please—something good for rock or metal.”

“Alright, I’ll see if there’s someone in the community who can teach both piano and guitar.  Is there more?”

“Um, I dunno ‘bout cooking lessons, but . . . some cookbooks would be nice.  Then I can try out new stuff, and you can be my guinea pig!  And—and I always liked putting things together, so maybe some kinda building kits?  I know I can’t have anything you think I could use to put together a radio or something like that, but there’s gotta be things for building robots or model planes or shit that’s safe, right?”  He glanced down uncertainly.

“Sure!  I can stop by on my way home one day to pick some of that up,” I said.

“Speaking of which, don’t you hafta be at work?  ‘Cause unless I lost track of time in that shithole, ain’t today Monday?” Dean asked.

“It is, but I requested a day or two of personal time.  I want to make sure you’re settled in here comfortably before I have to leave you alone for most of the day,” I replied.  “Is there anything else you’d like lessons in?”

He hesitated.  “There _is_ something, but I dunno if it’s possible with the spell in place.  Bobby taught me some self-defense stuff when I was younger, and I wanted to learn more ‘bout martial arts.  But my da— . . .  but I never got the chance.  It’d be good exercise, since I ain’t really the gym type.  But if that spell ain’t gonna let me . . .”

“No, it should still be okay.  The spell works on intent—you obviously can use a knife to cut up food, but if you want to stab someone with that same knife, _then_ it will stop you.  So it shouldn’t block you from learning or practicing karate or whatever,” I explained.  “What about the catalogs?  Is anything you want to order?”

“There ain’t that much from the clothing catalogs that I need, ‘cause you got me a lot yesterday.  But there is a buncha stuff I’d like from the other ones to make my room homier.  And getting some paint on the walls would be good—the view from those big-ass windows is awesome, but those white walls look sorta institutional.”  He paused and eyed me.  “Out here could use some work too—this place feels kinda cold and impersonal.”

“You think so?  I’m not good with this sort of thing, so I hired an interior decorator to take care of most of the rooms when I first moved in,” I explained.  “Let’s get changed, and then we can go through the decorating catalogs and discuss your ideas.”

After we both showered and got dressed, I pulled up the websites of the catalogs to order the things he wanted for himself and review his suggestions for the rest of the apartment.  For all that he seemed to hate his designation, he certainly had the typical omega domestic instincts in spades.  I had to hide my amusement as he enthusiastically went on about colors and lines and other esoteric things.

Once he finally wound down, I said, “There’s something I want to talk to you about.  It’s regarding your nightmares.  I’m _not_ going to ask about why you have them—it’s your call as to when you feel up to talking about that with me.  But . . . how often do you usually get them?”

Dean seemed relieved that I didn’t press about the reasons for his troubled dreams.  “Uh, normally once or twice every coupla weeks at most.  Though when they do happen, a lotta times it’s more than once in the same fucking night.”

“You’ve had them two out of the three nights you’ve been here, and I’m going to guess you had them while in the Food Market too,” I commented.  “This situation is obviously making the problem worse, but there’s not much we can do to fix that.  One thing I _have_ noticed though is that you didn’t have more nightmares after I joined you.  So I want to suggest that you try sleeping with me tonight.  I’m _only_ talking about sharing the bed—I’m still sticking to my promise to not do anything more until you’re ready.”

“Huh!”  He looked thoughtful.  “And then what?”

“If you still wake up screaming, then we go back to separate beds and try something else.  Although I might be able to stop you before the dreams get really bad if I’m right there.  But if you manage to sleep peacefully through the night, then we should keep it up.”

He pondered for a moment and then shrugged.  “I guess it can’t hurt to try.  You’ve been a pretty well-behaved bed partner so far.”

The rest of the day passed fairly quietly.  There was some supervised surfing on the Internet, more video games and movies, and a bit of reading in the library.  We also moved most of the furniture out of one of the guest bedrooms so that Dean could turn it into a practice and work space.

After dinner had been cleared away, he turned to me and said abruptly, “You should go back to work tomorrow.  A big-shot lawyer like you gotta have a busy schedule, right?  I’ll be okay here for the day.  It’ll give me a chance to snoop through your underwear drawer and shit!”

“Yeah, about that . . .”  I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably.  “You should know that I have wireless cameras installed all over the apartment, except for your bedroom and the bathrooms.  They’re not _just_ for my security though—they’re also to provide safety for you.  Since I obviously can’t give you a phone, I need a way to check on you in case you ever get hurt or sick or otherwise in trouble.”

I’d debated with myself about telling him about the cameras or not.  I figured he wouldn’t be happy to know they were there, but he’d probably be even more upset if he found out later that I hadn’t told him.  And gaining his trust was more important than catching him in any minor indiscretion, since the spell and other measures would foil anything serious.

His face went blank for a long moment, as if he were deciding whether to be angry or not.  Then he smirked.  “In _that_ case, I ain’t only gonna go through your fucking underwear, I’m also gonna do unmentionable things to ‘em while you watch!”

I laughed.  “You, sir, are an asshole!”

“Seriously though . . . I get that you’re trying to look out for me, even if it’s in a creepy Big Brother kinda way.  And while I appreciate you respecting my privacy, what if something goes wrong while I’m in my room where you can’t see shit?” he asked.

“I’ve got something for that too.”  I went into my bedroom and handed him a fob with a single button when I came out.  “This is a panic button, which will instantly set off an alarm on my cell phone when activated.  Keep this on you at all times, even in a room with cameras, since I can’t check the feed constantly while I’m working.”

He stuck it in a pocket.  “I just better not show up on one of those ‘I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up!’ commercials, dude.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I said dryly.  “Anyway, are you sure about tomorrow?  It’s not a problem to stay with you another day if you—”

“I’ll be _fine_ , Sam!  I got plenty to do in here, and I’m sure you got shit set up to keep me outta trouble,” the other man interrupted.

“Okay . . . Well, I tend to leave for work by seven, but you don’t have to get up with me that early in the morning.  I’m usually home by six, although tomorrow I’m going to stop by a bookstore on the way to pick up some cookbooks for you.” 

“Oh, um, thanks.  I’m gonna hang out in my room for a while.  Lemme know when you wanna go to bed.”  He then headed toward the bedroom wing.

It was a couple of hours later when I knocked on his door, and Dean opened it within moments.  He was dressed in a t-shirt and sleep pants, and I could see both his iPod and Kindle on the bed behind him.

“I’m about to get ready for bed,” I said.  “Would you prefer we sleep in my bedroom or yours?  My bed has plenty of space for both of us with room to spare, and it _is_ more comfortable.  But if you feel more secure here, we can go with that.”

He thought for a couple minutes and then shrugged.  “I guess we’ll try yours.  If I can’t relax enough to fall asleep there, we can always switch rooms.”

I smiled at him reassuringly.  “Okay!  It should only take me a few minutes to wash up.  Feel free to join me whenever you want.”

When I emerged from my bathroom a little while later, he was standing near my bed, looking pale and nervous.  He spun around at my approach and attempted to put on a nonchalant face.  “Hey!  This bed is fucking ginormous!  Whaddya _do_ with all this—have fucking orgies on the weekends?”

“Sorry, no orgies, although I _have_ had a couple of fun threesomes in here!  I had this bed custom-built because I wanted something big enough that I can stretch out and not dangle over the edge no matter which way I lay down,” I explained.

I then smiled again, put my hands on his shoulders, and squeezed comfortingly.  “Relax, dude!  I promise, nothing’s going to happen here tonight between us.  Other than both of us getting a better night’s sleep, I hope.”

The omega gave me an uncertain smile and stepped away.  “Sorry, I ain’t normally such a bundle of fucking nerves.  You’ve said you ain’t gonna force me into anything, and I _wanna_ believe you, I really do.  But I can’t forget why I’m _really_ here, and that there ain’t much I can do ‘bout it if you change your mind.”

I sighed and sat on the bed.  “I understand that it’s going to take time before you can trust me.  But I’m a man . . . err, monster of my word, and I said I wouldn’t hurt you in _any_ way.  You’re as safe here as you would be at—at Bobby’s house.”

“Probably safer—I ain’t likely to get crushed by a falling pile of books or mauled by rabid dust bunnies here!  Anyways, I _do_ get that you mean what you’re saying, at least for right now.  The rest is just gonna take time, like you said.”

He moved closer to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that filled the two outer walls of the bedroom.  “Damn, and I thought the view from _my_ room was good!  You can almost see the whole city from here!  D’ya ever worry ‘bout someone using binoculars from another building nearby and seeing you fucking or eating someone—well, not _you_ eating someone—or some other monstery shit?”

“The building has a privacy spell over the windows and terraces to prevent outsiders from looking in.  I believe it shows them what they expect to see—ordinary people doing ordinary things.  So there could be an orgy or a massacre going on right underneath a news helicopter, for example, and all they’d see is a garden party or something equally innocuous.”  I paused for a moment.  “So there’s no point in holding up signs or whatever at the windows in the hope that someone might see it.”

He shot me an irritated glance before gazing out the windows again.  “Spell, huh?  I guess your community uses magic for all sorts of shit.  And all those people running around down there have no fucking idea ‘bout what’s really going on here.”

Dean then went over to the other side of the bed.  “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you up, since you gotta go to work tomorrow.”  With that, he slid under the covers.

“Is this okay?” I asked, indicating the tank top and boxers I was wearing as I took my robe off.  “I’m not used to wearing anything to bed, but I can put on something more substantial if you’d prefer.”

“Dude!  I guess that home gym ain’t just for show!” he exclaimed as he eyed my muscled arms, legs, and chest.  “And what you’re wearing is fine—I ain’t _that_ much of a delicate flower.”

I nodded, turned off the lights, and got into bed.  To my surprise, the other man promptly scooted over and curled up against my side.  I had to ask, “Are you sure about this, Dean?  I mean, there’s plenty of room on the bed if you don’t—”

“If this is gonna be like the last coupla nights, I’m gonna end up here by morning anyways, so why fight it?  My subconscious apparently is a secret snuggler,” he interrupted in a slightly disgusted tone.  “Totally ruins my manly image, don’t it?”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” I said in amusement as I turned to face him.  “Um, is it alright if I put an arm around you?  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or any—”

“Oh God, what’s next—d’ya wanna braid my damn hair and talk ‘bout boys?” he groaned.  “Fine, but keep your Sasquatch hands above the waist!”

“ _Sasquatch_?”

“You’re unnaturally tall and have too much hair.  Sounds like a Sasquatch to me!” was the yawned response.

I gave him a disapproving stare, but he was already half asleep.  I wrapped an arm around his waist, and he settled against my chest with a drowsy sigh.  I watched him drift off, struck by how young and vulnerable he looked without the armor of his snarky attitude.  He was something lovely and precious that should be cherished and protected, not mistreated as he’d obviously been in the past.  After satisfying myself that he was resting peacefully, I fell asleep wrapped in his fragrant scent.

I awoke to the alarm clock blaring in my ear and slapped it off.  I rolled over and realized that I was alone in the bed.  I didn’t recall waking during the night, so I cautiously assumed that the first night of the experiment had been a success.

I rose, threw my robe on, and went to the door to the hallway to check if Dean had returned to his room.  Upon opening the door, I heard humming coming from the kitchen.  Satisfied that he sounded alright, I went back into my room to get ready for work.

When I entered the kitchen about twenty minutes later, he eyed my Italian wool suit, silk brocade tie, and neatly slicked-back hair.  “Nice monkey suit, dude.  I probably don’t wanna know how much that getup costs, do I?”

I shrugged.  “I have to dress for the job.  How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good.  I don’t think I woke up in the middle of the night, so your idea seems to be working so far,” he said as he set an omelet in front of me.

I happily attacked it.  “Man, this is better than at the diner!  Seriously though, you don’t need to get up this early and make me breakfast.”

“It ain’t a big deal.  I figure it’ll be nice to have a bit of interaction before I’m left to my own devices for the next several hours.  Oh, and here.”  The omega placed an insulated lunch sack with my firm’s logo next to my plate.  “It’s nothing fancy, just a sandwich and stuff.  I found the bag in one of the drawers here.”

I polished off the rest of the omelet and stood.  “Thanks, Dean.  I’ve got to get going.  It’ll probably be closer to seven by the time I get back tonight.  You sure you’ll be okay?”

He rolled his eyes.  “Stop being such an emo bitch, or I’ll find a way to call your boss and tell him you’re quitting to become an exotic dancer at a donkey show in Tijuana!”

“Gross, you jerk!”  I laughed, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  “See you later!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my personal head-canons is that Dean is actually an amazing musician, like Jensen is IRL. The off-key singing in the car is to annoy Sam, and the bad karaoke while a demon was because of too much booze and/or trying to annoy the other bar patrons. So I take any chance I can get in my fics to put a guitar or other instrument in Dean's hands. :)
> 
> Oh, and I HAD to find a way to work the iconic "Bitch," "Jerk" exchange into this story . . .
> 
> For anyone concerned that Dean might be giving in too easily, please keep in mind that we are only seeing things from Sam's POV, and he doesn't always know Dean's true thoughts or motivations. So Dean could be giving up and giving in. Or he could still hate being a prisoner but feel grateful for Sam's kind behavior at the same time. Or he could realize that Sam holds all the power and that it's in his own best interests to placate him. Or he could be trying to lull Sam into a false sense of security in order to make an escape attempt later. Or some combinations of these reasons or other reasons altogether.
> 
> Next week's update might go up Sunday night instead of Monday because I'll be spending the early part of next week at my parents' house to recover from my 2nd chemo treatment. I don't know how reliable their Internet service is, so I may decide to post the next chapter before leaving home. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer!


	6. Chapter 6

I barely had time to drop my briefcase on my desk before Lenore, one of the other junior partners, was in my office.  “Spill it, Sam!  Since you took yesterday off, I assume you found someone at the Market when you went on Friday.  I want _details_ , buddy!”

“C’mon, give me a few minutes first!  I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I complained as I sat down.

“I already told your bitchy assistant to get it for you.”  She leaned against a corner of my desk and poked my shoulder.  “Now quit delaying!  Tell me _all_ about him.”

I smiled widely.  “His name is Dean.  He’s twenty-six years old, and he’s easily the most _gorgeous_ man I’ve ever seen.  Plus he’s smart, funny, brave, and strong-willed.  He can cook, he likes classic rock and muscle cars, and he’s a huge movie geek.  Oh, _and_ he’s an omega and smells _amazing_.”

“Oh boy!  You’ve got it _bad_ , and it hasn’t even been four days yet!” the vampire observed.  “Have you . . . tasted him yet?”

“No, I haven’t.  I want to give him a chance to get to know me, to get more comfortable with me, before we go there.  And I suspect that this will take a while.  Dean has . . . issues.  He isn’t willing to talk about them yet, though I suspect they have something to do with why his father is serving life in prison,” I said.

“You haven’t looked into his background yet?  I can ask Benny or Charlie to do it for you, if you want.”

“No, I haven’t done that, and I don’t want you, your brother, your wife, or anyone else digging into his past either,” I told her firmly.  “I need to earn his trust, and unearthing his secrets on my own before he’s ready to share them _won’t_ help me.  I can wait until he confides in me of his own volition.

“Although speaking of Charlie, I’d like the two of you to come over to my place sometime soon.  Dean understandably doesn’t believe me that he won’t be a prisoner forever.  I think talking to Charlie will go a long way towards showing him that he can still have a good life here despite everything.”

“I’ll talk to her tonight and let you know tomorrow.”  Lenore gave me a considering look.  “But keep in mind that Charlie and I are an unusual case—we made everything work because we fell in love.  It won’t be so easy if Dean never feels that way toward you, Sam.  Especially since I _know_ you’ll never resort to the horrible ‘training’ techniques those other asshats use.”

I shuddered.  “ _Definitely_ not!  And I do understand that our situation may not be the same as yours.  But this can at least show him what’s possible.  I also think he and Charlie will hit it off really well, both being geeks and all.  I don’t want him to feel isolated, so letting him meet people and have the chance to make friends is important.”

“You really _do_ care a lot about him already, you big sap!” she said fondly.  “I’m glad, and I hope it works out for you two.  You know you can always come to me if you need to talk or need help.  And maybe now Ruby will _finally_ realize that she has no shot!  I’ll see you later—I’ve got to prepare for a nine o’clock conference call.”

Lenore left with a wave, and my executive assistant hurried in with a mug of coffee.  “Are you okay, Sam?  I was _worried_ when you didn’t come in yesterday—you’re hardly ever out!”

I took a long, appreciative sip before answering.  “I’m fine, Ruby.  I took a personal day yesterday, that’s all.  I . . . uh, I went to the Food Market on Friday to pick someone up, and I wanted a little extra time to make sure he was settled in.”

She sat down in front of the desk.  “You _did_?  But I thought you hated that place!”

“I still do.  But I also realized that it’s risky to rely on finding random guys in bars and clubs whenever I need to feed.  It’s better to have a safe, reliable source at home instead, even if it means patronizing the Market.”

“It would be even safer if you had a steady girlfriend instead, you know!” she insisted.  “Someone who _knows_ you, who _cares_ about—”

I sighed.  “Ruby, I’ve told you before—I’m _not_ interested in women in that way.  You’re a dear friend, but that’s _all_ you could ever be.  And having a steady _boy_ friend involves finding someone first.  I’m not really attracted to anyone I know from work or through my friends, and I _certainly_ don’t want to troll the club scene for someone serious.”

“Fine, whatever, Sam,” she said a bit waspishly.  “Why didn’t you tell me before that you were going there though?  You told _her_!  You know you can trust me—I _am_ your friend, after all.”

“It wasn’t anything personal, honestly.  I didn’t want to tell _anyone_ else—I was too ashamed of myself.  I only talked to Lenore because I needed her advice,” I told the demon.  “Now why don’t we go over the schedule for today?”

It took the rest of the morning to catch up on what I’d missed yesterday and deal with the things that couldn’t wait.  Once my desk was temporarily cleared, I pulled out the lunch sack and opened up the surveillance camera software at the same time.  I rewound the footage to right after I left home and began to watch while munching on my sandwich.

As I suspected, Dean waited about half an hour before searching the apartment thoroughly, presumably looking for a way to either escape or call for help.  He found the cameras in every room but didn’t do anything to them beyond making obnoxious faces into each one.  He only stared thoughtfully after discovering the safe in my closet, but he did manage to pick the lock on the chest at the foot of my bed—and then closed it hurriedly when he realized it was full of sex toys.  His perturbed expression made me once again wonder about his history.

After scouring each room unsuccessfully, he carefully returned them to their original condition.  Then the omega went to the kitchen and started removing the contents of most of the cabinets and drawers.  At first I thought this was part of the previous search, but then I figured out that he was simply reorganizing everything.  He also looked like he was making a list, and I suspected a trip to a home goods store was in my near future.

It was at this point when Lenore returned and caught me before I could minimize the window.  “Samuel Campbell, what are you _doing_?  After all your talk earlier about earning Dean’s trust, are you _spying_ on him?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks!  I told Dean about the cameras,” I said defensively.  “They’re for his protection as well as mine, so that I can see if he gets in trouble somehow and needs help.  It’s not like I can give him a cell phone, after all.”

“And he bought that _that_ was your only reason?”

“I didn’t put like that!  He has to earn _my_ trust too, so he knows why I’m watching what he’s doing.  Give me some goddamn credit, okay?” I snapped at the other alpha.

“Still doesn’t make this right, Sam.”

“ _None_ of this is right, Lenore!  I bought a fucking _person_ , for God’s sake!” I cried out.  “And not just _any_ person either!  If I’d met Dean at a bar or someplace else normal, I’d already be considering how to make him my boyfriend.  As it is, I’m trying my best to do right by him _and_ follow the community’s damn rules!”

“And what happens when you have to choose between the two?  Because it’ll come to that eventually,” she pointed out quietly.  “Charlie’s known from the beginning that if it ever came down to her or the community, I’d say, ‘Fuck these bullshit rules’ without hesitation.  You’re going to have to decide where _you_ stand, and sooner rather than later, I think.  Then you _have_ to let him know—it’s not fair to him to leave him in limbo.”

I dropped my head into my hands with a groan.  “This isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be!”

“It never is—it’s the penalty of caring.”  Lenore squeezed my shoulder before leaving.

I sighed and cleared away the remains of my lunch.  I then moved the camera feed to a corner of my screen and checked it whenever I could over the course of the afternoon.  There wasn’t much of interest to watch—after finishing with the kitchen, Dean made himself a sandwich and then watched TV and read until it was time for me to leave.  Whenever I had a few free minutes, I also called around and made some arrangements. 

When five-thirty finally rolled around, I packed up my briefcase and headed for the subway.  I stopped by a bookstore on the way and browsed through the cooking section for a while, not sure what to get.  After getting recommendations from other shoppers and one of the associates, I picked three books—one on general cooking, one on world cuisine, and one just on desserts—and continued home.

Dean was fidgeting anxiously in the kitchen when I entered the apartment, and his face lit up when he saw me.  I didn’t delude myself into reading too much into his reaction—he’d probably be happy to see _anyone_ after being left alone for nearly twelve hours.  I could see taco fixings set up on the island as well as a pot of Spanish rice, and the spicy aromas only barely masked the alluring omega fragrance permeating the room.

“Hey man!  I . . . uh, figured Mexican would be good tonight—Taco Tuesday or some shit like that,” he babbled as I approached.

“It looks and smells wonderful, Dean!  Let me change into something more comfortable first.  I’ll be back in a few minutes, but please don’t wait for me to start eating,” I said with a smile.

When I returned to the kitchen, I was now dressed similarly to Dean in jeans and a casual button-up, with my hair in its normal loose style falling nearly to my shoulders.  Two opened bottles of beer sat next to the plates, and he was munching on his first taco.  I loaded up my plate and sat down beside him.

“So I . . . uh, rearranged shit in the kitchen this afternoon so I can find everything better.  And I wrote down a few things that might be handy to add in here.  Hope you don’t mind,” he began as I got about halfway through my dinner.

I swallowed.  “Yeah, I noticed how you were keeping yourself busy.  Of course I don’t mind!  I told you to treat this place as yours, and you know far better than I what this kitchen needs.  I’ll try to pick up what you want in the next couple of days.  In the meantime, I did get you some cookbooks as promised.”

“Awesome!  I’ll look through ‘em later and maybe figure out some meals for the rest of the week.”  He paused and raised a sardonic eyebrow.  “By the way, did ya enjoy the fucking show?  Or do I need to make it more interesting—like include a Fred Astaire routine?  Maybe you’d prefer something from _Dirty Dancing_ instead?”

I sighed.  “Yeah, yeah, I get it—I’m a creepy pervert.  One of my friends at work already caught me and scolded me over the damn cameras.  I did ask her if she and her wife can come over for dinner sometime soon.  I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like you to meet them.”

Dean looked nervous.  “ _What_ are they?”

“Lenore is a vampire, and she’s the head of the biggest nest in the city, as well as one of the junior partners at the firm.  Her wife Charlie is human, and she’s a computer genius.”

“O—okay . . . And what _exactly_ are we offering your vampire friend for dinner?”  His face was pale, and his hand rose to cover his neck.

“Dean, _no_!  You are _never_ on the menu in _any_ way when guests are over!” I exclaimed.  “Lenore usually brings over a couple of packs from the blood bank, and she’ll just need our microwave to warm them.  Charlie’s the one you might have to do something different for—she’s a vegetarian.

“I have a couple reasons for wanting them to come over.  It’s never been my intent to keep you sequestered, and I think you’ll really like Charlie in particular.  Also, she’s one of the success stories I mentioned the other day.  Lenore bought her at the Food Market too, and now she’s free and a fully accepted member of the community.  Maybe hearing it from someone besides me will help you believe that it _is_ possible for this to work out somehow.”

“I guess it can’t hurt to meet ‘em.  At least it’d be a change from looking at your ugly mug all the time!”  The omega grinned impishly at me.

I rolled my eyes.  “Hah hah, very funny.  Anyways, I may have found a music tutor.  His name is Garth, and he’s a werewolf, but the word that everyone used to describe him was ‘mellow.’  I asked him to stop by tomorrow evening so we can meet him.  If we both like him, he can start coming over twice a week, once for piano and once for guitar.  If you’re comfortable with the idea, the lessons can be during the day, to break up the monotony.  I’m still looking for a martial arts teacher though.”

“That’s a great idea, Sam.  Being by myself for most of the day is gonna get old fast, so hopefully this Garth dude will be cool,” he said as he gathered up the dishes.

I shooed him away from the sink to wash the dishes myself, and then he challenged me to a few rounds of pool.  He once again wiped the floor with me, and I ended up owing him two pies and a six-pack of El Sol.  Watching him play was definitely an exercise in self-control—the lines of his back and curves of his ass when he bent to take a shot, the confidence with which he moved around the table, and the pleasure that animated his features were all _quite_ distracting.

Afterwards I asked, “Hey, I just realized it’s been more than a couple of days, so do you want to call Bobby again?  He should’ve picked up your car by now, and I’m sure he’d like to hear from you.  Same rules as before, okay?”

Dean nodded, and I pulled my cell phone out and put it on speaker.  The moment the call picked up, he said, “Hey Bobby, it’s Dean.  How’re you doing?”

“Glad to hear from you, boy!  After our last conversation, I wasn’t sure how soon you’d be calling again,” Bobby replied warmly.  “I’m fine, other than dealing with some of the idjits who consider themselves my hunting buddies.  More importantly, how are _you_?”

“I’m actually pretty good.  I’m, uh, helping out a friend with a kinda . . . _delicate_ situation, so I can’t really go into detail ‘bout it ‘til this shit’s resolved.  He’s letting me crash at his swanky-ass apartment, and you should _see_ this place, dude—it’s fucking enormous, and there’s a view of like half the city from here.  And you’d _love_ his library—it’s almost three times as big as your study, with floor-to-ceiling shelves on three of the walls.  I’m missing my Baby though.  You able to pick her up okay?”

I could hear the older man snort over the phone.  “’Course _that_ would be your biggest worry!  Your girl is fine, Dean.  She’s parked under the carport by the auto shop ‘til you can come get her.”

“Thanks, man!  So who’s being a pain in your ass _this_ time?”

I tuned out a bit as the two exchanged anecdotes about people I didn’t know, although I did pay attention whenever Dean offered any heavily-edited information about his past few days.  They chatted for about fifteen minutes, and Dean was smiling as he hung up.

He looked up at me with the smile still lingering on his face.  “Thanks, Sam.  You were right before—I do feel better after talking to Bobby.  I appreciate you letting me do this—I know you don’t hafta, given the circumstances.”

I placed a hand along the side of his face and kissed his forehead.  “I’m glad you’re happy, Dean.  I’m always willing to do whatever I can to make this as pleasant as possible for you.  What do you want to do now?”

“Hmm . . . I had enough of the boob tube earlier, so no movies tonight.  Feel like having your ass handed to you in _Halo_?”

“Those are pretty big words from a little guy!”

“Hey, I’m pretty damn tall for a beta, let alone a fucking omega!  _You’re_ the one who’s oversized!”

After some mutual butt-kicking, we retired to our respective rooms to get ready for bed.  I’d just gotten under the covers when the omega wandered in, once again wearing sleep pants and a t-shirt.  He slid into bed and settled against my side with a sigh.

“You okay, man?” I asked in concern.

“’M fine.  Just wondering what it says ‘bout my crappy life that the person who cares the most ‘bout how I’m doing—besides Bobby—is the monster who bought me at a fucking supernatural meat market.”

“I think it just says that you need to make some better friends.”  I wrapped an arm around his chest and gave him a hug.  “I don’t know what you went through before the Market, but I suspect some of it was really fucking bad.  The fact that you survived it with your sanity, sense of humor, and decency intact tells me that you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing some more characters here. This Ruby is Ruby 2.0 (i.e. Genevieve's version), since she's the one who had a closer connection to Sam than v1.0. I'm planning to not bring in OCs unless absolutely necessary, since the show has such a huge cast of secondary and minor characters to draw upon. And it's fun finding new ways to utilize said characters in an AU setting.
> 
> Minor point--this version of Sam looks to be ~24 years old (despite really being closer to 200), so his features resemble canon Sam around S3. However, since I prefer longer hair in general and particularly on Sam, I imagine his hair being more like the styles in later seasons--either S8/9 or his more recent style in S12/13. Dean looks mostly like his S1 self, though his omega version is a couple inches shorter (to play up the height difference with alpha!Sam). You of course are welcome to imagine them however you like though. :)
> 
> As I mentioned last week, this update is going up early because I'm going to be spending the next few days at my parents' house, and their Internet service is iffy at times. Next week's update will be on Monday as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy kitty. :)


	7. Chapter 7

The next couple of days passed in a similar fashion.  Dean woke up with me each morning to share breakfast before I left for work, and he put together something for my lunch as well.  What I saw on the surveillance footage during the day was fairly innocuous—Dean passing the time with the TV or a book or puttering with something I’d given him—though he occasionally amused himself by making rude gestures or holding up Wil E. Coyote-esque signs in front of one of the cameras.  I picked up some of the things he requested on my way home—kitchen wares from Bed Bath & Beyond and painting supplies and a workbench from Home Depot the first night, and a robotics kit and wooden architectural model kit from a high-end toy store the next.  He had something delicious for dinner waiting when I got back to the apartment, and we passed a few companionable hours together before going to bed.

The prospective music teacher, Garth Fitzgerald IV, did come over one night to meet with the two of us.  He was tall, skinny, and probably the least threatening werewolf I’d ever met.  “Mellow” was an apt descriptor, as was “eccentric.”  Most importantly, he and Dean seemed to hit it off, particularly after a lengthy but mostly good-natured disagreement on the merits of classic rock versus hip-hop.  We agreed he’d come over twice a week during the afternoon for two hours each session, starting the following week.

Friday afternoon blew up when a hysterical client arrived at the firm—he’d received notice of a surprise audit taking place on Monday, he was going to be out-of-town over the weekend, and his paperwork was a shambles.  By the time everything he needed was tracked down, cleaned up, and organized, it was past eight o’clock.  I swore viciously as I got on the subway, hoping Dean wouldn’t be too mad that I was late for dinner.

The waves of panic hit me as soon as I opened the door to the apartment.  Dean was wringing his hands and pacing frantically, his face ashen and his breathing labored.  His head shot up when I came in, and the eyes which met mine were so wide that white was visible all around the green irises.

“Where the hell have you _been_?  You were supposed to be here _two fucking hours_ ago!” he shouted, his fists clenched and chest heaving.  “I didn’t know if you were just stuck in shitty traffic or if something ter—terrible had happened!  What the goddamn _fuck_ am I su—supposed to do if no one remembers to tell me or . . . or to—to—”

I rushed forward and caught the omega as he began to hyperventilate.  I collapsed onto the couch with him on my lap and began rubbing his back and talking soothingly to him.  It didn’t take long to realize he was terrified because he thought he’d be trapped forever in this apartment if I never returned, condemned to slowly starve to death alone.  While I worked to calm him down, I thought furiously about how I could assuage his fears.

When he’d been reduced to quietly crying against my chest, I told him, “I’m so, _so_ sorry, Dean!  A client had an emergency, and I was forced to work late.  I didn’t stop to think how this might upset you, how you wouldn’t know what to expect if I couldn’t make it home for any reason.  I’m sorry for being so inconsiderate!

“I want you to listen to me now—you will _not_ be trapped here if something ever happens to me, you understand?  I’m going to tell Lenore and Benny—he’s part of her nest and another good friend—to come here and take temporary custody of you if I’m ever hurt.  They’re both good people, and they’ll make sure you’re taken care of until I can get back to you.  And I’m going to persuade them that if I should die, they’ll find a way to get you out of the city and back to Bobby.”

He lifted his head and glared.  “So I gotta hope that you get killed so I can go free?  Fuck that!  I don’t wanna see you die, Sammy, even if I _can_ get away after!”

I hugged him close.  “I certainly don’t want to die either, but accidents do happen.  That’s not the only thing I’m going to change.  To keep from stressing you unnecessarily, I’ll tell my assistant, Ruby, not to schedule late meetings anymore, so that I’ll be home on time.  If working late is unavoidable or there’s some major delay on the subway, I’ll call Benny or Charlie and ask them to come over and let you know what’s going on.  I won’t let this happen again!”

The young man sniffled and sat up.  “Sorry for being such a fucking wuss.  I dunno why you—”

“Stop, Dean.  I don’t want to hear you trashing yourself,” I said firmly.  “You have every right to be upset.  _I’m_ the one who needs to apologize, not you.  I’m the dumbass who didn’t stop to think how my actions would affect you.  And ultimately I’m keeping you here, so anything that happens to you is _my_ fucking fault.”

He examined my guilty expression.  “At least you didn’t mean to hurt me, which is more than I can say ‘bout my— . . . ‘bout some other people.”

He then stood and gave himself a quick shake.  “Lemme go reheat dinner.  I put the stir-fry and fried rice in the warming drawer to keep ‘em from getting totally cold, but they could use a few minutes on the stove again.”

I followed him into the kitchen and watched him wash the evidence of tears from his face.  As he began pulling the food out, I asked, “Did you call me Sammy earlier?”

He gave me a startled look.  “Did I?  Oh, um . . . Sammy’s the name of my little brother.  I—I dunno why that slipped out, man.”

“I didn’t know you _had_ a brother.  The background check the Market ran only came up with your father and Bobby.”

Dean stared down at the contents of the frying pan in front of him.  “I ain’t seen Sammy since I was thirteen and he was nine.  He got grabbed by Child Protective Services, but my dad ran before they could get me too.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to him?”

“I called the social worker handling his case once, not long after we were separated, and she assured me he was placed in a good home.  But I intentionally didn’t ask her for details.  Sammy was better off where he was, and I couldn’t be forced to tell what I didn’t know,” he said quietly.  “Later, after . . . after I was on my own, I did track down his whereabouts, just to make sure he was doing okay.  He got adopted by a real nice family near San Fran, and now he’s a pre-med student at Stanford.”

“But you never contacted him?”

He shrugged self-deprecatingly.  “Why?  It ain’t like he’d wanna meet the loser brother he ain’t seen in over twelve years.  Probably thinks I abandoned him and hates me.  And there ain’t much point _now_ , is there?”

“Were you two close before?”

“Sammy was the most important person in my life.  I practically raised him from when he was a baby, and he was the one good, pure thing I had.  Losing him almost killed me, but it was for his own good.”  He swallowed against his misery.

I came around the island and put my arms around the omega.  “I’m sorry, Dean—I didn’t mean to upset you again.  But you’re _not_ a loser—you’re a smart, strong, _good_ man.  And if I can see that clearly after only a week, then there’s no way that your brother won’t remember that, not when you were the most important person in _his_ life for so long.  I’m sure that he understands that you wouldn’t have left him unless you had to.

“And remember that you won’t be trapped here forever.  After we figure out how to make this work for us, you can get in touch with him if you want.  I think you should, in fact, and I’ll help you however I can.”

“I dunno if it’s gonna be that simple, Sam.”  He leaned against me for a moment, then gave me a light shove.  “Now get outta my way if you don’t want dinner to burn.”

To lighten the mood, I popped first _The Princess Bride_ and then _Spaceballs_ into the Blu-ray player after we ate.  I convinced Dean to sit on the floor in front of me and proceeded to massage his neck and shoulders until he was relaxed and purring.  By the time he had a long, hot shower and climbed into bed beside me, it was almost as if the earlier panic attack hadn’t happened.  I was still afraid he’d be beset with nightmares, but he slept peacefully through the night.

After breakfast was cleared away the next morning, I turned to Dean.  “I have a surprise for you.  I wanted to tell you yesterday, but then I got home so late and screwed everything up.  So I decided I’d wait until this morning instead.”  I took his hand and led him to the door to the terrace.

He looked surprised when I opened it.  “I—I thought you were gonna wait until I proved I was trustworthy or some shit like that before you let me out here.”

“I decided that was bullshit.  Your happiness is my main priority, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to jump through hoops to ‘earn’ things that you want.  So I looked for a way to make this safe for both of us,” I explained as I tugged him outside. 

“You remember the privacy spell on the building?  Well, it can be altered into a physical screen as well.  So I had the building manager change it over this apartment so that nothing larger than an insect can pass in or out of it.  Then I extended the boundaries of the spell from the Market earlier this morning to the outer walls of the terrace.  Now you can come out here whenever you want without anyone worrying about a security risk.”

He began to explore the terrace almost in a daze.  “Damn, this has gotta be bigger than Bobby’s whole house!  I . . . I didn’t think I’d be able to go outside again, at least not for a long time.  I dunno what to say, Sam.”

“Don’t say anything, man.  You don’t need to feel _grateful_ because I’m letting you have basic necessities like fresh air and sunshine.  This situation is fucked-up and wrong, and it’s my responsibility to make it easier for you,” I said.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at me from the edge of one of the larger planter beds.  “Still, you don’t _hafta_ treat me so well.  It sounds like most of your community wouldn’t bat an eye if you kept me on a fucking leash and fed me kibble.  Give yourself some credit at least for trying to be a decent person, dude.”

He then looked down at the planter.  “So . . . d’ya use these for anything?  I noticed they all just have dirt and not much else going on.”

“Not really.  I don’t have a green thumb myself, and I don’t entertain enough out here to justify hiring a gardener.  The guys who service the pool are nice enough to clear out any weeds, but that’s about it.  Would you like to do something with them?”

“ _Yeah_!  I mean . . . if you don’t mind or nothing,” the omega said, trying to cover up his eagerness.  “I used to keep a coupla plots at Bobby’s house—tried to make the place look a little less like a junkyard, ya know?  And you got a lotta space here with these beds.  I could turn one of ‘em into a vegetable garden, so we’d have fresh stuff to cook with, and the rest could be for flowers and bushes and shit.”

“Knock yourself out and do whatever you want out here, Dean.  As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m not good with the decorative stuff around here.  So I’m more than happy to entrust you with it, if it’s something you’ll enjoy.”  I walked up next to him and put an arm around his waist.  “What do you think of the pool?”

“It looks awesome!  And is that a Jacuzzi on the side?  Most of the motels I’ve stayed at didn’t have pools, or they were small and scuzzy.  But . . . uh, I ain’t exactly got anything to wear, unless you expect me to go skinny-dipping.”

“Well, there _is_ the privacy screen in place.  If you _want_ to, _I_ certainly won’t stop you from swimming _au naturel_ out he—OOF!”  I was still grinning as I rubbed where he elbowed me.  “Seriously though, I was going to pick up some swim trunks for you yesterday, but then I ended up being so late that I didn’t want to make any stops.  So I’ll get you some later.  And start putting together a list of what you want for the gardens too.”

I watched as he wandered over to inspect the grill.  That apparently met his approval, and I could see the wheels turning in his head as he factored it into his meal-planning.  He then drifted over to the edge of the terrace and peered over the wall.

“Sonofabitch, we’re high up!  Wonder if I could hit someone down there with a loogie?” he mused.

“Gross!  _Please_ don’t try!” I begged.

The younger man grinned and strolled back to my side.  “You need to learn to lighten up, Sam!  Can we go inside and check out Home Depot’s nursery section on your laptop?  Or even better—is there wifi out here?”

“Why don’t we get dressed, and then I’ll bring my laptop here,” I replied.

I didn’t need any supernatural senses to tell me how pleased Dean was when we returned to the terrace.  He was both animated and decisive as we went through the website, and I soon had a long list of tools, vegetable plants, herbs, and flowers to purchase.  The larger items I ordered directly from the website to be delivered in a few days.  His good mood left me with mixed feelings—I was of course glad to have made him happy, but I also felt guilty at having put him in circumstances where he had no control over something so essential.

I shook off my misgivings and stood once we were done.  “Okay, I’m heading out to get all this and your swimming gear.  _Try_ to behave yourself while I’m gone.  If I catch you trying to moon the neighbors, I _will_ spank you!”

He smirked at me.  “Sam, I get all tingly when you take control like that!”

I aimed a cuff at his head, which he dodged with a laugh.  “Oh, before I forget—Lenore and Charlie would like to come over for dinner Monday evening.  Is that alright with you?”

“Uh . . . sure, I guess?  As long as your vampire buddy understands that I ain’t part of the fucking meal!”

It took three trips up the elevator with a luggage cart borrowed from the bellhops to bring everything to the apartment a couple of hours later.  When I brought the first load out to the terrace, I found Dean sitting at one of the patio tables with his iPod and several sheets of paper, upon which he was sketching designs for the gardens.  Seeing his excitement as he helped me unload the cart reinforced my belief that I’d been right not to keep him cooped up inside the apartment any longer.

I collapsed onto a lounge chair once the last cartload had been emptied and the cart itself pushed out into the hallway outside the apartment for the bellhop to retrieve.  Dean returned to the terrace with two open bottles of beer.  I groaned and pressed the cold glass to my forehead and cheeks before downing half the bottle.

He grinned at me as I fell back against the chair and swung my feet up.  “Looks like you got your workout for the day, man!  While you’re catching your breath, I’m gonna grill up some burgers for lunch.  Then we can see what we can do to get these first coupla gardens ready for planting.”

“Only if we go swimming afterwards!  I got you some trunks and stuff—the bag’s outside your bedroom.  You should put some of the sunscreen on now though.  I don’t want to deal with it if you let yourself get all red and peeling!”

“Yes, _Mom_.”  He rolled his eyes and went inside.

After lunch, we labored for several hours to prepare four of the large planter beds by tilling, adding potting mix, watering, and spreading mulch.  I then took a quick shower to wash off the dirt and sweat and changed into a pair of swim trunks.  Before heading outside, I stopped at the storage room to grab a floating pool chair and cooler and a couple of pool toys.

Dean was rubbing sunblock onto his legs when I stepped onto the terrace.  As he straightened and I beheld the navy blue Lycra swim shorts he was wearing—very reminiscent of the beach scene from _Casino Royale_ —I realized I’d committed a grave tactical error.  I hadn’t seen him undressed before, and now these snug shorts did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and chest, flat stomach, narrow hips, curved rear, and strong limbs, all covered in lean muscle.  Like most of his kind, he had very little body hair, leaving the freckles covering his fair complexion in easy view.  Those who insisted that omegas had to be petite and dainty obviously hadn’t laid their eyes on _this_ man.

Fortunately Dean seemed oblivious to the effect his appearance was having on me.  “Hey, pool floats—awesome!  Would you mind putting sunblock on my back, dude?  I was able to get most of it ‘cept between my shoulder blades.”

I coughed to clear my throat and picked up the bottle of sunscreen.  “N—no problem.  So th—this is the style of swimwear you prefer?”

He shrugged under my fingers.  “I guess—I’ve never really had my own swimsuit.  But these remind me of the gym shorts I used to wear to the swimming hole near the salvage yard.”

I forced my hands to not linger on the soft skin over his spine and tried not to inhale his enticing scent too deeply.  Instead I hurried over to the edge of the pool before he could notice the evidence tenting my trunks.  I tossed the chair and toys into the pool and loaded up the cooler before letting it float away, then I dove into the water myself.  The water was just cool enough to shock my downstairs brain into behaving, and I surfaced feeling less concerned about upsetting my companion.

Dean meanwhile grinned broadly, ran up, and cannonballed into the water, splashing me thoroughly.  I tackled him in retaliation as soon as he stood up and ended up doubled over in laughter after he attacked my ribs to get away.  We horsed around like that for a while and tossed a beach ball back and forth.  We then took turns lounging on the pool chair and swimming laps.  When I was the one floating leisurely, I had to frequently rest my cold drink on my crotch to prevent another embarrassing reaction to the sight of his sleek form cutting through the water.

We eventually got out, dried off, and sat back on the lounge chairs to relax.  Dean said happily, “Man, that was a lotta fun!  I’m definitely gonna be spending more time out here!  Though I guess I gotta get up soon to start making dinner.”

I waved a hand.  “Don’t worry about it.  You’ve done plenty today, so let’s get something delivered.  You want pizza or Chinese?”

“Hmm, tough call!  Let’s go with Chinese—egg roll, hot and sour soup, and beef lo mein for me.”

“Alright.  I’ll call them in a little bit, unless you’re ravenous now.”

“Nah, I can wait.  Though I think I’m gonna head inside after all to wash off the chlorine.  Thanks for today, Sam.  I know you don’t think I need to say it, but I _do_ appreciate everything you’ve been trying to do for me.”  He got up, walked over to my chair, and leaned down to kiss my cheek.

I put a hand to my cheek in surprise and stared as he ambled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope the mention of Sammy Winchester doesn't seem completely out of left field. I couldn't imagine Dean not being a big brother, and this Sam is too old and experienced compared to him to fit in the role of little brother. But don't worry, this isn't the beginning of some far-fetched, convoluted "secret brothers separated at birth" story line (not saying all such stories are a twisted mess, just that this one would have to be!). Sam Campbell and Sammy Winchester are two completely separate people. I imagine Sammy as a mix of canon pre-series Sam Winchester and Adam Milligan. I hope to be able to reunite Dean and Sammy at some point, but I don't know yet how or when that will happen.
> 
> I also hope y'all enjoyed imagining Sam and Dean dripping wet in their swimsuits! Poor Sam was too flustered by his own reaction and trying to hide it to notice if Dean was checking him out too or not . . . :D
> 
> Last week I was at my parents' house recovering from the 2nd chemo treatment (which fortunately went better than the 1st) and didn't get any writing done. I'm now back home and starting to feel better, so I plan to put my nose to the grindstone and get some work done this week. Next week's update will be posted on Monday as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	8. Chapter 8

I managed to leave the office a little early Monday afternoon and hurried home.  I knew Dean was anxious about his first time playing host, and I was determined to help out however I could.  There might not be much I could do in the kitchen, but at least I could try to calm his nerves.

When I entered the apartment, I could tell by the tantalizing aromas that he’d decided on a Mexican menu.  The living and dining rooms had been tidied up, some of the furniture had been rearranged, and the new décor items we’d ordered had been put out.  I had to admit, the changes did make the rooms feel warmer and more inviting.  I could also see through the windows that the terrace had been cleaned up and the gardening supplies stacked in an out-of-the-way corner.

As I approached the kitchen, I exclaimed, “Everything smells incredible, Dean!  What are you making?”

He looked up from chopping onions and tomatoes.  “Hey, Sam.  I’ve got the enchiladas in the oven right now—one dish of beef and chicken, one dish of cheese and spinach.  Figure four varieties is plenty to cover everyone’s preferences.  Also got the cornbread in there, and the black beans have been in the crockpot all afternoon.  I’m making the salsa now, and I still gotta do the guacamole and the rice.  How soon are they gonna be here?”

“Don’t worry—you’ve got plenty of time.  What can I do?”

“Um . . . Can you mix up the margaritas and sangria and put the pitchers in the fridge to chill?  The table also needs to be set.  D’ya wanna have dinner in the dining room or out on the terrace?”

“Let’s eat outside since the weather is so nice.  I’m going to change out of this suit, and then I’ll take care of the drinks and the table.”

The doorbell rang about an hour and a half later.  Despite Dean’s fretting, everything was finished with plenty of time to allow him to shower, change, and unwind a little.  I indicated that he should stay on the couch while I answered the door.

Lenore came in first, with a small travel cooler in one hand.  “I hope we’re not too late.  We got caught in a little bit of traffic getting here.”

I smiled and took the cooler.  “You’re fine.  Let me put this in the fridge for now.”

Charlie threw her arms around me and then slugged me hard on the arm.  “Sam Campbell, I can’t _believe_ you actually _bought_ someone from that hive of scum and villainy!  _Not_ cool, dude!”

Before I could defend myself, she bounced over to where Dean had stood up and stuck out her hand.  “You must be Dean!  I’m Charlie.”

He shook her hand.  “Yeah, that’s me.  I hear they got you to drink the Kool-Aid.”

“As if!  I would _love_ to see crapholes like the Market crash and burn,” she retorted indignantly.  “Unfortunately, everything’s so intertwined that it’s nearly impossible to take down the shitty parts of the community without damaging the good ones.  I’m still _seriously_ disappointed in Sam for patronizing that place!  Though I guess it worked out better for you, since he’s a big teddy bear.”

He grinned.  “I’ve noticed.  And trust me, Sam knows he was a bad boy for going there.”

Before her wife could launch into a full-scale rant, Lenore stepped forward and extended a hand.  “I’m Lenore, Sam’s co-worker and Charlie’s wife.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”

His handshake was a bit tentative.  “Um . . . likewise.”

“Why don’t you two head out to the terrace?  Dean and I will bring out the drinks and snacks,” I offered.  As I followed the other man into the kitchen, I asked, “Are you sure you’re okay, dude?”

He took a deep breath as he loaded a tray with tortilla chips, salsa, guacamole and an ice bucket stocked with Dos Equis and El Sol.  “Ye—yeah, I’m fine.  I know this Lenore chick can’t be that bad if she’s your friend, and if she married Charlie even after buying her at the Market.  It’s just that the other vamps there . . . they made it damn clear people like me were nothing but fucking blood bags.  It’s gonna take some getting used to that they ain’t all like that.”

I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before taking the pitchers out of the fridge.  We carried the refreshments out to the patio table, and then Dean poured drinks for everyone—margaritas for Charlie and I, sangria for Lenore, and beer for himself.

As he sat down, Lenore smiled at him.  “I like what you’re starting to do out here.  Sam’s killed every houseplant anyone at the office ever gave him, so I know you have to be the gardener.  I’ve always thought it’s a shame he hasn’t done more with all this space.”

“In my defense, this is ridiculously large for one person, especially given how little I entertain.  And you’ve already mentioned my lack of affinity for plants,” I pointed out.  “So Dean’s welcome to go nuts with the gardens and everything.  He’s already begun redecorating the apartment too.”

“About time your place stopped looking like something out of a snooty design magazine!” Charlie declared.  “Where did you get the guacamole and salsa?  They taste amazing!”

“That’s Dean again.  He made pretty much everything we’re having tonight,” I said proudly.

The omega blushed.  “It ain’t a big deal.  The recipes are outta one of the cookbooks Sam got for me.  I’ve been cooking on and off since I was a kid, but it ain’t nothing special.”

“Don’t listen to him.  His food is as good or better than most of the restaurants I frequent,” I told our guests.  “Why don’t you two tell Dean how you got together?”

“Well, I’d been living mostly off the grid since I was a teenager, moving around and supporting myself with my mad computer skills.  I didn’t stay in any one spot for too long and didn’t make any close friends so as to not draw attention to myself.  That ended up biting me in the butt, of course, since I got hit with a tranquilizer dart one night a few years ago and woke up inside a box truck.  There were other people like me in the truck, people no one knew about or cared if they went missing.

“You already know what it’s like when you get to the Market, how they dehumanize us and treat us like frigging cattle.  I was put in one of the regular cells, but luckily I didn’t attract the particular ‘attention’ of any of the guards.  I was freaking out more than enough after learning that all the bedtime-story boogeymen were real and was terrified about what would happen to me next,” Charlie said.

Lenore then picked up the narrative.  “I wasn’t looking for food when I went to the Market.  One of the businesses my nest runs is a blood bank, so feeding has never been an issue.  But I was tired of being alone—my nest mates are too much like family, I wasn’t interested in anyone I knew from other nests or work, and like Sam I didn’t want to search the bar scene for a serious date.  I was hoping to find someone at the Market to keep me company, and the occasional free meal would be a side benefit.

“When I saw Charlie, I knew right away she was the one.  Not only was she _adorable_ , but her personality and spirit shone even in _that_ hellish place.  It took some time after I brought her home to earn her trust and become friends.  But it didn’t take long to realize that I wanted more than just her friendship.”

“When Lenore first bought me, I thought I was a goner—not as fast as Lon Chaney Jr. ripping out my heart, but I still figured I was dead meat,” Charlie continued.  “After she explained that she didn’t want to hurt me, I knew I’d lucked out, given the alternatives.  Being a prisoner was still a _big_ downer though.  We managed to be friends regardless, and then one day I realized I loved her, fangs and all.  She went to bat for me with the Council and persuaded them to take the collar off my neck.  I proposed to her the next day.”

“What’s the Council?” Dean asked.

“The Council of Seven is the group who ultimately controls the city.  Each member runs one of the commissions which oversee vital functions of the community, such as security, food supply, PR, et cetera.  The Council as a whole is the body which decides whether or not a captive can be freed and whether any outsider can join the community here,” I explained.  “In Charlie’s case, Lenore had to convince a majority of the Council that she could be trusted not to run or to betray the community if she were released from the collar and other security measures.  This isn’t something that Lenore undertook lightly—if Charlie ever abused that trust, _she_ would be the one to suffer the consequences.”

“And let me tell you, those are some _really_ scary dudes!” Charlie exclaimed.  “As terrified as we were of the goons at the Market, they’ve got _nothing_ on those sonsofbitches on the Council— _especially_ the creepy head of security.  If you ever have to go in front of them, you should bring a couple pairs of Depends!”

His brow furrowed.  “How many have been freed that way?”

“Nowhere _close_ to enough,” the redhead replied.  “Our best guess is that maybe twenty percent at best of the people bought through the Food Market and similar businesses are kept long-term by their owners.  Most of those poor bastards either are never allowed to leave wherever they’re being held or are first subjected to horrific ‘training’ methods to make them into obedient slaves.  We know of less than two dozen legitimately freed prisoners like me currently living in this city.”

“And you think I could be one of those few?”  He looked at me.

“I do.  It won’t be easy, but I sincerely believe we can find a way to get there eventually,” I said firmly.

“But only if I toe the fucking line and accept how things work here, including shit like the Market.”

I sighed.  “On the surface, yes.  We need to make the right impression to the Council, which includes paying lip service to their rules.  We can’t afford to fight them openly when they control if that thing comes off your neck.

“But there are a growing number of us, human _and_ monster, who want to fix the system, to correct the negative aspects of the community without destroying the whole.  For example, some of us are trying to work out methods to popularize and promote non-exploitative sources of food, such as animal substitutes, cadavers from morgues and funeral homes, medical waste, et cetera.  The more people we can get onboard with using these means, the less customers the Market will have, and the easier it’ll be to eventually close places like that down.”

“Huh!  That’s definitely a lot to think ‘bout.  But for now, lemme go and bring out the food.”  Dean stood.

“I’ll come in too.  There’s too much to carry by yourself.”  I then followed him inside.

Once in the kitchen, he slanted a glance at me before starting to pull dishes out of the warming drawer.  “I get why you asked your friends to come talk to me.  But Charlie got her happily ever after ‘cause she and Lenore fell for each other.  Is that what you expect is gonna happen with _us_ , Sam?  What happens if I never . . . you know, feel that way?”

“I’m trying not to make any assumptions about our relationship.  I’d like to think we’re becoming friends, and if it goes beyond that . . . well, great!  But not all the people who’ve gotten their freedom are lovers or whatever with the community member who sponsored them before the Council.  So we can let whatever’s between us happen naturally and figure things out from there,” I responded as I ladled the beans into a bowl.

His stance relaxed at that, and he set the beans, rice, and cornbread on the tray.  I took that outside, while he carried the first dish of enchiladas.  After I brought the other batch of enchiladas and a warmed mug of blood out as well, we sat down to eat.  Dean grabbed a beef and a cheese enchilada, I took a chicken and a spinach, Charlie a spinach and a cheese, and we all loaded up on sides.

“Oh my goodness, Dean!  This is even _better_ than at my favorite Mexican joint!” Charlie said excitedly after a few bites.  “You ever think of becoming a chef?”

He shrugged.  “Not really.  You usually gotta go to culinary school or spend fucking years slogging as a line cook or something before you can do your own thing as a chef.  And I ain’t ever been in one spot long enough to do either.  Sam’s offered to get me cooking lessons if I want, but I’d rather experiment with recipes and shit on my own.”

“Well, feel free to use me as a test subject anytime!” she said after swallowing another mouthful.  “So, have you watched any of the _Clone Wars_ animated series?”

This kicked off an enthusiastic discussion of favorite TV shows and movies.  Lenore and I watched the two humans geek out for a while, and then I caught her eye and nodded towards the kitchen.  We gathered up the dishes and carried them inside, leaving our companions engrossed in conversation.

“It’s a good thing Charlie has no interest in men, or otherwise we’d have to worry about the two of them running off and living nerdily ever after together,” I commented ruefully while piling dirty dishes in the sink.

Lenore laughed before opening the fridge and removing another blood pack.  “You were certainly right about them hitting it off with each other!  And I can see why you’ve fallen for Dean so fast.  He seems smart, sweet, and talented.  Even I can admire his physical charms, and his _scent_ is incredible!  I admire your self-control, my friend.”

“Let me tell you, it hasn’t been easy!  With my abilities, I _could_ persuade him at any time to let me feed _and_ make it that he enjoyed the experience,” I admitted.  “But that wouldn’t be right, especially not for anything lasting.  I _don’t_ want a drugged-up sex slave.  I want him to _want_ to do this, to enjoy being with me of his own choice.  I want . . .”

“You want him to love you.  Poor Sam!  This is going to be tough for you,” she said sympathetically.

“I know.  But he’s worth it.  And apart from my own feelings, I don’t want to be another person who hurts him.  Something _very_ bad happened to him in the past, and he needs someone to help him, _not_ add to his pain.  So I can deal with tight pants and cold showers for a while,” I responded as I loaded the dishwasher.

“You’re a good man, Sam Campbell, and Dean’s lucky you found him,” the female alpha said, after laying a hand on my arm.  “Now let’s see if we can pry those two apart, before they spend all night gabbing!”

We went back out to the terrace, where Dean and Charlie were having an animated debate regarding _Game of Thrones_.  Lenore managed to steer the conversation out of the depths of fandom by asking the omega about his plans for the gardens.  We chatted and had some more drinks, and I was pleased to see that the other man was relaxed and enjoying himself.

Eventually Lenore looked at her watch and sighed.  “Sorry, time to go home, kiddies.  I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow, so we need to head out.”

“I’ll see tomorrow after your meeting then.  Oh, and tell Benny I’d like him to come over sometime soon to meet Dean also,” I said.

Charlie looked over at me.  “Sam, is it okay if I visit Dean sometimes while you’re at work?  I figure he could use some company rather than be alone all day.”

“Of course that’s fine, Charlie!  Though . . . should I be worried about the kind of trouble you two might get into unsupervised?” I teased.

She gave me her most innocent look.  “ _Moi?_   Don’t worry—I promise we won’t get caught doing anything that could land you in hot water.  Peace out, bitches!”

After the ladies left, we cleared off the patio table and finished cleaning the dishes.  Dean was a bit loose-limbed from the liquor and still radiated a good mood.  Once everything was put away, we decided to call it a night as well.

As we walked down the hallway towards the bedrooms, I wrapped an arm around the young man’s shoulders.  “I’m glad you had a good time, man.”

He grinned up at me.  “They were both pretty awesome, ‘specially Charlie!  I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed hanging out with other people until they came over.  I mean, it ain’t that I don’t enjoy being around you, but . . .”

I squeezed his shoulders gently.  “Don’t worry, I get it.  I told you before—I _don’t_ want you to feel isolated and dependent on me as your sole source of interaction.  I’ll introduce you to more people I know, and hopefully you’ll make friends with some of them too.”

“You better be careful, dude!  What’re you gonna do when your friends figure out I’m way cooler and wanna spend all their time with me?” he asked impishly.

“I guess that’s a risk I’ll have to take.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the issues I had with Wrapped In Honey was that it seemed unrealistic to expect to successfully keep a human being confined to one space and isolated from all other contact for the rest of his life and yet still want him to be happy and healthy, as Sam thought he could do with Dean in that story. So in my version of this setting, most of the supernatural creatures who buy humans as slaves don't really care about their well-being and therefore don't have an issue keeping them locked up or subjecting them to torture to break their spirits and force them into obedience. But the ones who DO care about their human property, like Sam, would know that locking them away from everyone else won't work. So Sam plans to introduce Dean to people he trusts, and he knows he can't keep Dean confined to the apartment for long.
> 
> When I first introduced Lenore, I chose to make her queer as homage, since Amber Benson had also played Tara, Willow's girlfriend, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then when deciding who her wife would be, Charlie was the obvious choice. Charlie was a favorite secondary character of mine, at least before the Oz storyline (her suddenly becoming an expert, badass hunter after that seemed too Mary Sue-ish). And her death, like Bobby's, Kevin's, and many others', felt like a waste, something that happened because the writers decided that someone close to the boys had to be killed for "dramatic purposes." So she was definitely a character I wanted to bring back in one of my stories.
> 
> This Friday is my 3rd chemo treatment, so next week's update will be posted on Sunday evening before I go to my parents' house for the week. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	9. Chapter 9

After dinner about a week later, I said, “I have to talk to you about a few things.”

Dean put down the magazine he was reading.  “Okay, what’s up, doc?”

“I’ll start off with the simplest.  I think I’ve found a martial arts instructor who might suit.  Her name’s Lydia, and she’s an Amazon.  She normally doesn’t take students like you—”

“You mean _human_ ,” he interjected.

“No, I mean _male_.  She’s making an exception for you because you’re an omega.  _I_ was the one she looked at like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe.”

He snickered.  “The fact that you’re _totally_ oppressing poor little me probably ain’t earning you any brownie points with her either.  Amazons . . . like in _Wonder Woman_ or like in Greek mythology?”

“More like the myths.  There’s material about them in the library you can look up.  The important thing is they’re in the dormant phase of their breeding cycle right now, so she shouldn’t be a threat.  I’ve asked Lydia to come over in the evening sometime soon so we can meet her in person, like we did with Garth.  If that goes well, you can schedule lessons with her once or twice a week.

“And speaking of Garth, I know you already had your first guitar lesson but can’t practice on your own.  So I got you some stuff.  Wait here.”

Dean watched curiously as I went into the hallway outside the apartment and wheeled a luggage cart inside.  His eyes widened as I handed him the first item.  He stared down at the Gibson USA hardshell case for a moment before opening it and reverently lifting the dark red electric guitar out. 

“You—you got me a _Les Paul guitar_?” he breathed.  “Dude, how much did this fucking cost?”

“Don’t worry about _that_ ,” I told him.  “I wanted to get you something good-quality that will last.  The music store says this one is great for playing at home or in a studio.  I also got you an amp, stand, and some other accessories.”

“Shit, Sam, I—I dunno what to say!  This . . . this is beyond awesome!”

“I’m glad you like it, dude.  Take a few minutes to check it out.  I think there’s an owner’s manual in the case.”  I smiled at him before taking the amplifier and other items off the cart and then pushing the cart outside and returning it to the lobby.

He looked up from poring over the manual, the guitar still in his lap, when I came back in and sat on the couch.  “Okay, what else did you wanna tell me?  I’m guessing you saved the worst shit for last since you buttered me up first with the guitar.”

“I swear, the timing of this gift is mostly coincidental!  What I have left to say isn’t _that_ bad.  I . . . I need to feed sometime soon, within the next few days.”  I saw the omega stiffen and tighten his grip on the guitar but kept going.  “So I thought I’d go out Friday night.  I’ll come home first to have dinner with you and change, and then I’ll go to one of the clubs where I’ve hunted before.  If I can find a couple of willing partners, that should tide me over for another week or two.  And I can do it again as often as needed until you’re ready.”

He visibly relaxed.  “ _Oh_.  Uh, thanks, man.  And . . . just so you know, it ain’t that I’m afraid of _you_.  I know enough by now to understand that you ain’t gonna do nothing intentional to hurt me.”

“Thank you, Dean.  I’m honored to have earned this much of your trust,” I said gravely.  “I did have an idea though, about maybe trying to . . . _ease_ into a physical relationship.  You don’t seem to mind when I touch you in a friendly manner, right?  So let’s step it up a little and see how you feel.”

His brows rose.  “Like how?”

“We could start with kissing and maybe some light petting?  We’ll only go as fast as you’re comfortable with, I promise.”  I then paused and coughed uncomfortably.  “There is a . . . um, _complication_ that you need to be aware of though.  We incubi . . . we have an aphrodisiac in our saliva to help get our victims in the mood quicker.  I don’t want you to think I’m try to push you into anything, because that’s not—”

He set the guitar back in its case and moved from the armchair to beside me on the sofa.  “Chill, Sam—I get it.  How strong is this stuff in your spit?”

“It will make you aroused, but you’ll still be in full control of your actions.  So we can stop whenever you want, and then you can go take a cold shower or masturbate or whatever.”  I took his hands and gave him a direct stare.  “And listen, I _only_ want you to do this if _you_ want to, okay?  You are under _no_ obligation to do anything, especially _this_.”

“I appreciate that, Sam.”  He was quiet for a few minutes and then looked up at me.  “Well, I guess it can’t hurt to try, right?”

With that, Dean leaned over and tentatively pressed his lips to mine.  I kissed back gently and saw his eyelids flutter shut and his posture ease further.  I extended my senses and felt his uncertainty and apprehension mixed with curiosity and trust.  I tugged on his arm until he shifted into my lap and put one of my own arms behind his back for support. 

Once he was comfortably seated, I deepened the kiss, licking lightly at the edges of his mouth and sucking softly at his lower lip.  At the same time, I ran a hand down his side, over the smooth skin and firm muscle covering his ribs, and then back up the center of his chest.  He gasped and slid an arm around my shoulder, and I slipped my tongue into the gap between his lips.  My tongue danced around his, and he soon reciprocated as his mouth opened further under mine.  His hand gripped my shoulder even more firmly as I continued to stroke his chest through his t-shirt.

We kissed for a couple of minutes more, and then I slowly pulled my mouth away and looked down at the young man on my lap.  His eyes were still closed, his long lashes fanning across his cheekbones, and his plush lips were already a bit swollen.  His fair skin was flushed and his breath quickened, and he’d dropped a hand to his groin to press against the erection visible through his jeans.  His earlier nervousness had been completely subsumed by desire, and his rich scent was even stronger and more entrancing.  It took some effort to keep my hunger firmly in check.

“How are you doing, Dean?  Do you want to keep going, or do you need some alone time?” I murmured in his ear.

Dazed green eyes opened and blinked up at me.  “Sonofabitch!  You’re a damn good kisser even without the love potion in your spit!  Uh . . . I guess I should . . . take care of this.  Are—are you gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine, dude.  Take as much time as you need.”

I watched as he walked somewhat unsteadily toward his bedroom.  Once I was sure he wasn’t coming out for a while, I unfastened my pants and slid my hand inside my boxers to grasp my hard cock.  As I stroked myself, I imagined the other man lying on his bed, touching himself and moaning.  It took only a couple of minutes before I shot all over my hand.  I carefully made my way to the kitchen to clean myself off and then returned to the living room.

Dean joined me on the couch again about an hour later, while I was watching a rerun of _Planet Earth_.  His hair was damp, and he’d changed into his sleep clothes.  His expression was calm, and he seemed relaxed.  Still . . .

“Hey there.  Are you feeling alright?”

He leaned over to give me a close-mouthed kiss.  “I’m doing fine, Sam.  I promise I’ll tell you if anything we do bothers me.  And thanks for being so patient.  I know this ain’t what you imagined when you bought me.”

“To be honest, I didn’t truly know what to expect when I brought you home either,” I said ruefully.  “But don’t worry about it!  I’m just glad to have you here, and I don’t mind taking our time.  Most people rush into everything these days and don’t appreciate the art of courtship.”

He grinned at me.  “Dude, you are _such_ a girl sometimes!  I gotta say though, it’s kinda nice being with someone who’s so concerned ‘bout how I feel.”

Which in turn made me wonder about the sort of people he’d associated with before me, but I knew better than to press him for information.  Instead I slung an arm around his shoulders while we watched TV together for a few hours.  After noticing him nodding off, I nudged him awake enough to head into the master bedroom.

I was surprised to find the omega still awake when I came to bed after washing up.  “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

He shrugged.  “Nah, just thinking ‘bout stuff.”

I stretched out next to him and put a hand on his stomach.  “Can I . . . ?”

“Um, okay.  Just watch your spit!”

I smiled slowly and pressed my mouth to his, careful to keep my lips closed.  I then let them wander across his jaw to his ear, where I nibbled along the outer curve before licking and nipping at the lobe.  Meanwhile, my hand slid under his t-shirt and caressed the planes of his chest.  He made a purring sound and arched his back, then tentatively raised his hands and ran them along my shoulders.  I hummed encouragingly as I kissed down the column of his neck and breathed in his captivating aroma, and his hands explored the muscles of my back with more confidence.

I pulled back and looked down at him.  “Good?”

Dean smiled and nodded, looking like a cat that’d been stroked just right.  And then he ruined that image with a huge yawn.  I laughed and wrapped my arms around him, and he settled his head against my chest with another yawn.  I watched him drift off before falling asleep myself.

The next few days followed a similar pattern.  I kissed him as often as I could manage—affectionate busses for good morning, goodbye, and other greetings, quick pecks of acknowledgement, approval, or just because, and open-mouthed make-out sessions when there was time to deal with the consequences afterward.  Likewise I put my hands on him more frequently—hugging, stroking, and petting whenever the opportunity presented itself.  He seemed to welcome my caresses and embraces—except while cooking, when any distraction earned me a smack—and even initiated a time or two.

Friday evening found Dean leaning against the doorframe of my walk-in closet, watching as I decided on what to wear to the club.  He’d gone all-out for dinner earlier, preparing porterhouse steaks with a whiskey gravy, potatoes au gratin, and roasted Brussel sprouts.  He’d taken some care with his appearance too, dressing in a black thermal top which hugged the muscles of his arms and chest and distressed jeans which accentuated the lines of his ass and thighs.  His emotions however were a roiling mess of anxiety, concern, a touch of fear, and a little bit of . . . not quite jealousy, perhaps possessiveness.

I turned to give him a concerned look.  “What’s the matter?”

He sighed and shrugged.  “I dunno.  It ain’t that I wanna suddenly rush things between us but . . . The whole reason you went to the fucking Food Market was that hunting at clubs and shit was risky, right?  So if you _ain’t_ . . . feeding offa me, what the hell am I here for?”

“You’re here because you’re my _friend_ , and I enjoy your company.  _And_ I’ve become addicted to your cooking!”  I waited for his cheeks to flush and the corners of his mouth to turn up before continuing.  “Seriously though . . . Having a regular food source may’ve been why I initially bought you, but that hasn’t been the whole truth for a while.  I hope you know that I care about you as a person, Dean, and I’m happy to have you here even if I never feed from you.

“And while I’m glad you’re thinking about my safety, you don’t have to worry.  The biggest danger with hunting is if I wait too long and potentially get sloppy.  But I’m not so hungry yet that it could impair my judgment, and I promise that I’ll be careful.  If it makes you feel better, the owner, manager, and head bartender at the club I’m going to tonight are part of the community, so I won’t be without backup.”

His eyes dropped.  “What if—if you meet someone there that . . . that you like better, an—and you wanna bring ‘em here instead of me?  Will you . . . will you send me _back_?”

I strode over to him and tilted his chin up.  “Look at me.  That’s _not_ going to happen.  You are an _amazing_ man, Dean Winchester—you’re smart, funny, strong, caring, and absolutely gorgeous!  I don’t know how I got lucky enough to find you, but I do know that I don’t need to look for anyone else.  And no matter what occurs in the future, I’ll _always_ take care of you.”

Once his gaze lifted, I bent my head and kissed him softly.  He leaned in with a moan and clutched at my upper arms, his lips opening and his tongue probing at my mouth.  I stepped back quickly, not trusting my control with the hunger so near the surface.

“Sorry about that, man—I didn’t mean to start anything,” I said.  “Everything will be fine tonight, I swear.  I’ll only be gone for three or four hours at the most.  If you want, I can ask Charlie to come over to keep you company.”

He shook his head.  “I’ll be okay.  Just a case of the fucking nerves, I guess.  And you should go with the burgundy silk shirt.”

I put on the shirt in question and a pair of snug black jeans and low black boots to go with it.  I spread my arms and turned around slowly.  “Does this work?”

Dean’s eyes darkened as they traveled up and down my figure, and his voice was husky as he replied, “Yeah, dude—you’re gonna be beating them off with a stick!”

I moved closer and laid a kiss against the base of his neck, murmuring, “Not as many as if _you_ were there.  If I brought you with me, we’d have a riot on our hands!”

I reluctantly let him go and left the bedroom.  At the front door, I said, “I’ll try to be back before midnight.  If it looks like I’ll be out longer, I’ll call someone and have them stop by.  If there’s an emergency, use the panic button, and I’ll be here as fast as I can.  Alright?”

“I’ll be fine.  Now get outta here, Don Juan!”

I kissed him goodbye and headed down to the parking garage.  I drove about twenty minutes to what used to be a seedy neighborhood until a gentrification project started fifteen years ago.  Now the graffiti and trash were gone, the streets were clean, and the buildings were filled with apartments, shops, and restaurants.  The club, Lilith’s Fall, occupied what used to be a small warehouse. 

As I approached the door, the bouncer recognized me as a regular and waved me past the line of waiting customers.  After paying the cover charge and checking my coat, I made my way into the main room of the club.  I was almost instantly hit with the sounds of heavy metal music and loud conversation and the smells of cigarette smoke, alcohol, perfume, and sweat.  Most of the room was taken up by the dance floor, while small tables of black marble lined two of the walls.  The third wall was taken up with large booths upholstered in brass-studded black leather, and the fourth was filled with a long obsidian bar packed with eager drinkers.  Red and yellow overhead lights created flickering, flame-like patterns on the walls and floor, while bronze representations of medieval torture devices hung from the rafters.  The staff was clad in red and black leather and sported ivory or bronze horns and coiled leather whips.

I headed over to the bar and called out to one of the bartenders, “Hey Lucky!  How are Mandy and Aiden?”

The skinwalker’s face took on the fatuous smile it always got at the mention of his family.  “They’re great!  We’re going to the park this weekend to chase balls and Frisbees and have a picnic.  Haven’t seen _you_ in a few weeks though, Sam.  Everything okay with you?”

I smiled as well.  “I . . . uh, I’ve met someone, so I’ve been spending my time with him.”

“Good for you, man!”  Lucky’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “But then how come you’re here by yourself?”

“We haven’t gotten that far . . . you know, _physically_ yet.  So I’ve come here to my usual hunting grounds just to refill the tanks.”

“This guy’s gotta be something special if you’re not getting any and you _still_ have that sappy smile on your face!” he said with a knowing grin.  “Does he _know_ ‘bout you and the community and stuff?”

“Yeah, he does now.  There’re parts he still has trouble with, but we’re working on that.  He’s not thrilled about my coming here either, but I’m not going to push him into something he’s not ready for yet.”

“Gotcha!  Well, you bring him here when he is, and I’ll get you both a drink on the house!  Until then though, I assume you wanna use one of the private rooms for a coupla hours?”

I nodded and accepted the small key he handed me, then turned around to peruse the room.  It didn’t take long to zero in on a potential target.  He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy hair and hazel eyes that smoldered when I joined him on the dance floor.  We ground together for a while, and then I took his hand and led him to one of the private rooms in a hallway behind the bar.  He attacked my mouth as soon as I closed the door, and we quickly wrestled each other’s clothes off.  I first blew him against the door before laying him out on the sofa and pounding him through two more orgasms.  My feeding left him pleasantly drowsy as I helped him get dressed and bundled into a cab.

I then returned to the main part of the club to search for another partner.  Contestant number two was smaller and blonder, with the added bonus of freckles everywhere.  He required even less foreplay, and I soon had him on his hands and knees on the same sofa.  After riding him enthusiastically for nearly half an hour, I poured him back into his clothes and returned him to his friends, who straightaway teased him for his blissed out expression.  I contemplated going back to the dance floor for thirds, but I was already lazily replete.  And it was approaching eleven o’clock, so I returned the key, reclaimed my jacket, and drove home.

Dean was waiting in the living room when I got back to the apartment.  He put his book aside and started to rise, but I waved him back down as I hung up my coat.  I flopped onto the sofa next to him and threw an arm around his shoulders.

He gave me a concerned once-over.  “Are you okay, Sam?”

I grinned languidly.  “Told you not to worry.  I am feeling . . . _spectacular_!”

“Jeez, are you drunk?  What did you _do_ there?”

“Nope, not drunk—just _really_ full.  And I did two guys—they both kind of looked like you.  Not as good though.”  I heaved a sigh.

He rolled his eyes.  “Alright Happy, let’s get you to bed before you turn into Sleepy or Grumpy.”

He stood, tugged me back onto my feet, and steered me into the bedroom.  I shook him off to undress and wash up on my own.  When I emerged from the bathroom, he was lying in bed and watching me with a bemused expression.  I crawled in beside him and wrapped myself around him, letting his irresistible odor fill my nostrils.

“At least you’re a cheerful drunk.  Though you’re even more of a goddamn octopus than when you’re sober!  _Argh_ , lemme breathe, you overgrown tentacle monster!”  He pushed at my arms futilely.

“Nope!  You’re all mine now!”  I buried my face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and began sucking a mark there.

Dean relaxed in my grip and sighed.  “Guess I am.  Works both ways though, dude.  I don’t . . . I don’t like you going out and fucking strange guys.  How screwed up is that?”

I lifted my head and looked at him seriously.  “You know it’s necessary.  I promised I wouldn’t rush you into anything before you’re ready, and I’m going to stick to that.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate that.  It just . . . I dunno, feels like I’m letting you down somehow.”

I kissed his cheek.  “You’re not, Dean.  You’re worth waiting for.  The best things in life always are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally got some smut! Which has left Sam feeling thrilled and Dean apparently a bit mixed up. Hope y'all haven't minded the wait . . .
> 
> This week's update is going up earlier than expected since I have to head to my parents' house shortly. Next week's update will be on Monday afternoon/evening as usual. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	10. Chapter 10

I walked out onto the terrace after work several days later.  “Hey Dean!  I was just talking to Benny, and he wants to come over here this evening.  That okay with you?’

Dean looked up from where he was planting some impatiens.  “Benny—he’s part of Lenore’s uh, nest, right?  Sure, I guess that’s fine.  Do I need to do anything special for dinner since he don’t . . . yanno, eat?”

“No, he’ll bring blood packs with him if he’s hungry, like Lenore did.  We just need some cold beers ready.  He said he’ll be over at eight after he’s done with his shift.”

“Alright.  I should still have time to finish up out here and wash up before starting on dinner.”  He rubbed at some sweat on his forehead, leaving a dirty smear.

I stepped closer and wiped the dirt away, then bent down to give him a kiss.  It hadn’t been that long since I went to the club, and I was still quite full.  But the freedom to kiss and touch the omega as often as I wanted remained new and heady, and I took advantage of any opportunity I could to show him my affection.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck and inhaled the mingled odors of earth, sweat, and his own sweet scent.  “Mmm, you smell _delicious_!  Think I could lick you clean?”

“Whoa there, cowboy!  There’ll be none of that risqué shit in front of these young, impressionable flowers—they ain’t even been planted yet!” he said with a laugh as he playfully shoved me away.

I helped him with the gardens for a while before we both went off to shower and change.  After a dinner of butter chicken and saffron rice, we settled in front of the TV in the living room to wait for our guest’s arrival.

The doorbell rang soon after, and I let Benny in.  “Hey Benny, I’m glad you decided to come for a visit.  I’ve wanted to introduce you to Dean for a while now.”

“Always happy to see you, old man,” Benny responded with an easy smile.  He turned to Dean, who’d gotten up and walked over.  “And you must be the guy who’s trying to make an honest man outta our philandering incubus here.”

Dean shrugged, his cheeks a little flushed.  “I dunno ‘bout _that_.  Me and Sam are just taking it slow and trying to get to know each other.”

“Well, Charlie was practically raving with excitement after meeting you last week.  Lenore also had several nice things to say, and Big Sis don’t get impressed easily.”  The vampire extended a hand.

Dean grinned as he shook it.  “Yeah, Charlie’s pretty awesome.  And Lenore seemed cool too.  I gotta say, it’s been taking some getting used to, realizing that not only are all these supernatural critters real, but that most of you are just regular folks.”

Benny chuckled.  “I can see how that could be hard to take in at first!  I hope those of us you’ve met so far have made a good impression.”

“Other than the assclowns at the Market!  Anyways, you want a beer or something?”  Dean headed towards the kitchen after Benny nodded.

I frowned slightly as I watched the two of them.  Benny spoke in his usual amiable manner, but his eyes were hard and wary, and worry, anger, and a touch of fear lurked beneath his pleasant demeanor.  Something was bothering him, something having to do with Dean.  I decided to first give him a chance to get to know Dean a little better before confronting him.

“I picked up a copy of _Dracula Has Risen from the Grave_ a few days ago.  I’ll hafta bring it with me the next time I’m here,” Benny told me as we followed Dean.  He then said to Dean, “Sam and I share a love for old horror films.”

Dean’s face lit up.  “Like the old Hammer and Roger Corman flicks with Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, and Vincent Price?  Man, those are awesome!  I saw Sam has some of ‘em in his collection.”

“Then we definitely need to include you in our viewings,” Benny said as he accepted a cold bottle from the younger man.  “So how d’ya like living here with Sam?”

“It’s been great for the most part.  I’ve never stayed someplace as fancy as this apartment.  And Sam . . . he’s been amazing.  He—he’s been nicer to me than almost anyone else I’ve known.”  Dean looked down and fidgeted with his bottle cap.  “If it weren’t for the whole collared, can’t-ever-leave thing, living here would be perfect.”

I immediately put an arm around his shoulders and guided him back to the sofa.  “I have to admit that I didn’t fully consider the implications of buying a person before I went to the Food Market.  I’ve been trying my best to do the right thing, but I’m still surprised at how well everything’s been going so far.  Dean is fully within his rights to be furious and to hate me, and yet he’s been trying to make this work too.”

Dean shrugged.  “I still ain’t accepting this whole slave shit, but it ain’t entirely Sam’s fault I’m in this predicament.  Being mad and pissing him off don’t help either of us, and it just don’t feel right when he’s been treating me so well.”

“It certainly ain’t an easy situation.  Lenore and Charlie went through a similar mess before they worked it out,” Benny commented.  “So . . . they both mentioned you’ve been making some changes ‘round here.”

“And for the better!  You know I’ve never been good with the domestic sort of stuff.  Dean’s been trying to make the apartment more inviting and comfortable, and you should see how much better the terrace looks!  Not mention that he’s an _incredible_ cook!” I said enthusiastically.

Dean was blushing furiously.  “Quit it, dude—it ain’t _that_ big a deal!  It’s just been some paint and cushions and flowers and shit.”

“You’ve done a _lot_ more than that, and you need to stop selling yourself short,” I told him. 

He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, his cheeks still pink.  “Yeah, whatever.  So Benny, whaddya do?  Lenore mentioned your nest runs a blood bank.  D’ya work there?”

“Our nest does own a blood bank and a couple other businesses, but other members manage those.  I’m a police detective,” the vampire said with a sharp grin.  “Besides legitimate police work, I help maintain security for the community.  If there was a 911 call involving a member, for example, the emergency dispatchers we control would make sure it was assigned to me or an officer like me.  We then make sure that the issue is dealt with in a manner that doesn’t endanger the community as a whole.”

“Oh.  So I guess calling the police in this city would be counterproductive if I actually wanted to get away.”  Dean shrugged nonchalantly and reclined against my arm.  “What’s your favorite Hammer film?”

This led to a discussion of horror films in general and Benny and I ranting about the inaccuracy of movie monsters.  Dean eagerly contributed his movie geekdom and laughed at our mockery of classic monster tropes.  Benny seemed to enjoy the conversation, but his gaze remained guarded whenever it rested on the omega.

Dean must’ve noticed as well, as he abruptly sat up in the middle of the exchange and glared at the vampire.  “Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you, dude?  You’ve been giving me the goddamn stinkeye ever since you got here!  You got a problem with me ‘cause I’m human or an omega or some stupid shit like that?  I thought a friend of Sam’s would be better than that.”

Benny leaned back in his seat.  “I ain’t got an issue with what you are, man.  But tell me, what d’ya know ‘bout hunters?”

Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “You mean the douchebags who dress up in camo on the weekends and try to blow away Bambi and Thumper?  The ones who eat what they kill ain’t so bad, I guess, but the dickwads who hunt for fucking _trophies_ are a buncha—“

“I don’t think that’s what he’s referring to,” I interrupted gently.  “Hunters are people who track down the supernatural and destroy it.” 

“Like—like Van Helsing or Hellboy?”

“Something like that, though not nearly as glamorous.  They roll into town pretending to be FBI or US Marshals or whatever, investigating unexplained deaths or other unusual circumstances.  They snoop around for a while until they think they know what’s behind the phenomena which attracted their attention, and then they try to kill or banish it.

“The good ones only go after creatures who’ve hurt other people, but unfortunately most hunters are violent sociopaths who indiscriminately kill anything that’s different.  You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the community who hasn’t lost loved ones to these barbarians or doesn’t know someone who has.  Both of my parents were killed by hunters years ago,” I replied.

Dean put a hand on my arm.  “I’m sorry, Sam.  Sounds like these hunters are bad fucking news for you guys!”

“They’re probably our biggest threat.  The community for the most part isn’t as worried about exposure to the general public—most people who try to talk about us are dismissed as delusional quacks who either read too much _Enquirer_ or are after their fifteen minutes of fame.  But if hunters ever found out about this city or places like it, they could destroy us,” I said somberly.

“I can see that.  But what does this hafta do with me?”

Benny crossed his arms and eyed Dean skeptically.  “You saying you don’t know anyone like that, son?”

“Who, _me_?”  Dean looked at him incredulously.  “Man, ‘til a few weeks ago I thought all this paranormal shit was just fairy tales.  But I’m pretty sure I woulda noticed if someone I met thought they were the next Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“What ‘bout your foster father?”

“ _Bobby_?  Oh yeah, he’s a hunter alright!”  Dean laughed.  “He takes down deer, pheasant, or whatever else is in season.  Even tried to teach me once, but I wasn’t interested in killing my own dinner.  And sure, he’s got those weird old books on myths and magic and shit.  But if that makes him a monster hunter, then so is Sam!”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong there, my friend.  Your Bobby Singer is on a list of known hunters,” Benny said.  “After Lenore told me ‘bout you and how Sam was so taken with you, I decided to check into your background for his sake.  To make sure there were no nasty surprises that could—”

“Stop, Benny,” I interrupted as Dean went pale and began to shake in panic.  I squeezed his shoulders in reassurance before continuing.  “I specifically told Lenore I _didn’t_ want anyone snooping into Dean’s past.  That’s _his_ business and _his_ choice about what he wants to tell me.”

“I didn’t wanna take the risk of something biting you in the ass, so I looked anyway.  And you should be glad I did, chief,” Benny retorted grimly.  “Most of your boy’s history don’t affect you, and you’re welcome to wait on him to find out ‘bout it.  But the old man set off more than a few alarms.

“Took a bit of time to double-check, since Robert Singer ain’t an uncommon name.  But I was able to match up pictures and other info on _his_ Bobby to what we got on file ‘bout the hunter.  Which then begs the question ‘bout how much does Dean here really know?”

“You’re full of shit!” Dean said indignantly.  “I lived with Bobby for _years_ , and I never saw any sign of . . . _Sonofabitch_!”

“What is it, Dean?” I asked in concern.

His eyes had gone wide.  “I can’t believe I never fucking noticed before . . . He’s got this row of phones in his kitchen with labels like police, FBI, Marshals, and I never questioned when he said he did some dispatching on the side.  He has all these weapons stashed all over the house—different types of guns and blades, including some pretty exotic shit—but he ain’t a gun nut or militia type.  Plus there’s a lotta religious and mystical crap lying around, even though he ain’t a devout anything.  And the people who’d come by, his ‘hunting buddies’ . . . some of ‘em are cool, if a little weird, but others are the sort I’d never think he’d hang with.”

I put a reassuring arm around Dean’s shoulders and then stared at Benny challengingly, fangs bared.  “Dean didn’t _know_ , Benny.  He didn’t know about the supernatural or the community until he was brought here, and he didn’t know about Bobby until just now.  I can tell he’s not faking his astonishment, then or now.  So _back off_.”

The vampire raised his hands placatingly.  “Calm down, Papa Bear—I ain’t trying to threaten your cub here!  If you believe him, then I’ll back your play.  But it still don’t change the fact that his adopted daddy _is_ a hunter, and that can mean a whole world of hurt for us if the man gets wind of what’s truly going on here.  Has Dean had any contact with him?”

“Yeah, I’ve let Dean call Bobby a few times.  I’ve listened in on each conversation, and there’s been nothing incriminating—they mostly talk about cars, mutual acquaintances, and what Dean’s been doing.  He’s never tried to tell Bobby where he was or what had really happened to him.  And don’t bother asking—I’m _not_ cutting him off from the only family he has left,” I replied.

Benny sighed.  “That’s your call, Sam.  But it ain’t gonna make things easier for either of you when Alastair gets wind of this.  You know it’s only a matter of time before he finds out, and _he_ ain’t gonna be so understanding.”

“Let him bluster.  He won’t have any proof of wrongdoing and therefore no basis to take any action against us,” I said dismissively.  “If he needs a target, let him go after the fools at the Food Market.  Their ‘careful’ background check didn’t turn this or other information up, probably because they got too greedy to do their proper due diligence after getting their hands on an omega of Dean’s quality.”

“Who the hell is Alastair?” Dean asked, looking back and forth between us.

“Alastair is a member of the Council and the head of the Security Commission.  They enforce the laws of the community, including the ones governing people in your situation,” I told him.  “Alastair pays particular attention to those he considers a potential flight or exposure risk.”

“Not to mention he’s a high-ranking demon _and_ an all-around nasty sonofabitch,” Benny added.  “It’s lucky for you the Market folks _didn’t_ find out ‘bout Bobby while you were still in their custody.  If they had, Alastair likely woulda had you put down and your body dumped back where they first found you.”

“Fortunately he didn’t then, and I’m _not_ going to let him do anything now,” I said firmly.  “You’re under _my_ protection, and Alastair will need a hell of a lot more justification to get my permission to even _talk_ to you.  I told you I’d keep you safe, and I meant that!”

“I appreciate that.  And I get that this thing with Bobby complicates things.  I want you to know that as much as I wanna see him again, I—I _don’t_ wanna do anything that could get you hurt or killed, Sammy.  So I ain’t gonna tell him anything ‘bout what’s _really_ going on here, okay?  But . . . if this Alastair dude is such a scary bastard, how are you gonna stop him?”  Dean looked at me anxiously.

“Alastair still has to follow the rules like anyone else, and under those rules simply knowing a hunter isn’t enough of a security risk to warrant any action on his part.  Particularly if I object to it,” I answered.  “And I have ways to counteract his clout.  So don’t worry about him.”

“Are you gonna tell Alastair ‘bout what you found out?” Dean asked Benny.  “Seeing as how you’re part of his security system and all.”

“Nah, this ain’t part of my job description.  It was something I did on my own time, so there’s no reason for him to know ‘bout it.  He’ll find out on his own soon enough.”  Benny stood.  “I should get going, before Big Sis starts to worry ‘bout where I’m at.  I wanted to give you the head’s up before any trouble appeared.  And Dean, no hard feelings, alright?  I’m just trying to look out for Sam here.”

Dean studied the other man for a moment before nodding and extending his hand.  “I can respect that, man.  Next time, bring the movie, and maybe we can get to know each other properly.”

Benny gave him a small but genuine smile and shook his hand.  “I can get behind that, my friend.”

I escorted Benny to the door, where I said.  “Thanks for the warning, Benny.  Maybe you can come over next weekend for a movie night or something.”

“I’d certainly like that, Sam.  And maybe Lenore _was_ right ‘bout Dean being good for you.  I ain’t seen you this happy in a long while, and you ain’t even doing nothing yet.  Can’t wait to see how goofy you look when you two start . . .”  He grinned and made a lewd gesture.

I gave him a light slap upside the back of his head.  “Perv!  Get out of here!”

When I returned to the kitchen, Dean was clearing away the beer bottles with a troubled frown on his face.  He looked up as I approached.  “Well, ain’t this a clusterfuck!  You _do_ know that I was telling the truth ‘bout not knowing that Bobby is a hunter, right?  And I meant what I said ‘bout not wanting to bring that kinda trouble on you.”

I drew him into a hug.  “Calm down, Dean—I believe you.  I’m not mad at you, and you’ll still be able to call Bobby when you want.  I trust you not to say anything dangerous to him, especially now that you _do_ know.”

“And you ain’t worried ‘bout this Alastair finding out?”

“Not too much.  Neither of us have done anything wrong, so he doesn’t have any grounds to do anything.  Though just in case, I’m going to try to introduce you to our neighbor across the hall.  If _he_ decides he likes you, which I think he will, then he’s got enough influence to block Alastair.”

“Huh.  I guess it would be awesome if you can sic Alastair’s attention on the fucking Food Market though.  Any trouble there has gotta help your efforts to get that shithole shut down,” he commented with a shaky grin.

“It certainly can’t hurt,” I agreed.  “But that’s enough serious talk!  I want to enjoy the rest of our evening.”

The omega squeaked in surprise when I picked him up and carried him over to the sofa.  He quickly relaxed when I settled him in my lap and opened his mouth to accept my ardent kisses.  He curled one hand over the back of my neck and slid the other under my shirt as my tongue slipped around his.  I pushed his work shirt off his shoulders and pulled away from his lips long enough to tug his t-shirt off, then resumed kissing him deeply and running my hands along the muscles of his back.

He was soon moaning and pressing himself against my hands, while his own were caressing my chest from under my shirt.  I kissed my way down his neck and across his clavicle, and my hands slid around to cup his pectoral muscles.

“Do you want me to keep going, or have you had enough?” I murmured as I licked the freckled skin of his shoulder, dizzy on his enthralling fragrance.

“Mmm, don’t wanna stop yet . . .”  He opened his green eyes and gazed up at me a little shyly.  “Would . . . would it help you to watch while I rubbed one out?”

“If you mean, could I feed off of that—the answer is yes.  It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy me if I was still hungry, but it would definitely take the edge off,” I replied.  “But you don’t have to push yourself.  I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I know, dude.  But I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t willing to give it a shot.”  He gave me a serious look.  “I ain’t gonna get over this fucking hang-up if I don’t try nothing, and I’d rather test this shit out with _you_ than some random dude I met at a bar.”

“And this _isn’t_ about trying to make me feel better because you’re still concerned that I’m upset about Bobby?”

“No, I promise it _ain’t_ anything like that!  I—I really do wanna try to go a little further.  The kissing and shit has been awesome, and I wanna see if I can take the next step with you,” he assured me.

“Alright.  But if _anything_ starts to bother you, you need to stop and tell me.  What do you want me to do?”

“Keep doing what you were before, man.  Just—just stay above the waist for now, okay?”

I nudged the smaller man around until his back was resting against my chest, freeing both of my hands to roam around his torso.  He unfastened his jeans and pushed them and his boxer-briefs down off his hips, and my mouth watered at the sight of his long, lovely cock as it sprang free.  He wrapped his fingers around his dusky member and began to stroke it slowly, while I peppered kisses across his jaw until I could nibble the lobe of his ear. 

He gasped as my hands came up to toy with his pink nipples and my mouth wandered down to suck at the base of his neck just below the collar.  I drank in his increasing passion as his hands moved faster, his shaft slick with pre-ejaculate leaking from the slit.  I gently pinched and tugged on his tender peaks, which caused him to whine and thrust vigorously into his grip.  He was soon arching his back and stripping his cock furiously, his eyes at half-mast and his lower lip caught between his teeth.  I bit down on his shoulder, and he swore and stiffened as his milky seed erupted over his fingers.

Dean slumped against my chest and lolled his head on my shoulder.  “ _Damn_ , that was good!  How come I don’t feel that tired though?”

I lifted each of his hands to my mouth and licked his fingers clean before responding.  “I only fed off a little bit of your energy this time.  I’m still mostly full from before, and I’m more concerned with how you’re doing anyways.”

He gave me a contented smile.  “I’m doing awesome, Sammy.  I know it’s weird an—and fucked up, given all the shit going on, but I feel . . . I feel _safe_ with you somehow.”

“I’m constantly amazed at how strong you are, to be brave enough to open yourself up like this,” I said as I wrapped my hands around his and pressed my lips to his throat.  “I just hope I continue to live up to your trust and expectations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who were wondering if Bobby is a hunter, you were right! I thought it would be an interesting twist on the original premise to keep Bobby's background the same as in canon, as opposed to him being as clueless about the supernatural as Dean. And yes, Dean really didn't know about any of this, including Bobby, before. So this is just as much of a surprise to him as to Sam. We'll have to see what effect this has on them now, especially with the threat of Alastair getting involved.
> 
> And for those concerned that things are going too well between Sam and Dean, please remember that there's a lot going on, and we still don't know exactly what's in Dean's head about all this. Sam's been trying his best to be understanding and caring, and Dean can't help but have some positive feelings towards him as a result. But Sam is also keeping him prisoner and literally has the power of life and death over him, so we don't know how much of Dean's actions are because he feels he has to do what Sam wants (or let Sam think he's doing what he wants). So please continue to be patient and see where the story goes . . .
> 
> Next week's update should go up on Monday afternoon or evening as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	11. Chapter 11

I didn’t want to wait long to act, as I couldn’t be sure how soon it would be before Alastair found out about Dean and Bobby.  So I placed a call to our neighbor the next day when I had a few minutes in between meetings.

Crowley picked up after a couple of rings.  “Hullo, Moose.  How’s tricks?”

“Hey, Crowley!  I’m glad I reached you.  Listen, would you be able to come over to visit in the next day or two?”

He chuckled.  “Well, well.  A little birdy had told me that Sam Campbell might finally be off the market.  I take it you’d like to introduce me to your new beau?”

I smiled ruefully at how gossipy the community could be.  “I would.  And I’m afraid this is more than just a social call.  There’s a . . . complication that could bring Alastair sniffing around.”

“And you want to know if I’d be willing to support you if he does, I take it.  I suppose I can meet the object of your affections,” he said.  “As for the other thing, we’ll see—though I don’t need much encouragement to put a spike in that bloody bastard’s plans.

“I assume you want to do this sooner rather than later, correct?  Unfortunately, my dance card is completely full for the next several nights.  How about the two of you come visit the bank during the day, or perhaps stop at the club early one evening?”

“Uh . . . I haven’t tried taking him out anywhere since I got him,” I admitted.

“Well then, no time like the present!  Unless you’re afraid your little pigeon will fly the coop if you let him out?”

I considered this statement.  I hardly thought Dean enjoyed being a prisoner, despite how well I treated him.  But he was well aware of the security measures the community established around people like him, and he was too intelligent to think that a hasty escape attempt would accomplish anything.  Plus I believed that he did care enough to not want to bring any serious trouble down on me.

“No, I guess I’m not really concerned about that.  I just hadn’t thought about taking him out of the apartment yet,” I replied.  “When would be a good time to drop by the bank?”

“Let’s say Friday at around eleven, shall we?  We can perhaps take your young man out to Harvelle’s afterward for lunch,” Crowley suggested.

“That would be perfect.  That should give us time to take care of something else before seeing you.  See you then!”  I hung up the phone and returned to my work after making another call.

I decided to keep the outing a surprise and didn’t say anything about it that night or the next day.  Instead I brought home the latest version of _Gears of War_ , which kept both of us amply distracted.

On Friday morning, Dean rolled over to glance at the alarm clock and shot upright.  “Sonofabitch!  Wake up, Sam!  The alarm didn’t go off, and you’re gonna be late for work!”

I wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him back down.  “I changed the alarm—not going to work today.  I’m taking you out instead.”

“Huh?  What?  You—you mean outta the apartment?”

“Yep.  There are a couple of things I want to take care of this morning.  Dr. Talbot wants to run some more tests, so we’re going to her clinic first at nine.”

“But I thought all my blood work came back normal!  So why the fuck do I hafta see that bitch again?” he objected.

“The first round of results _was_ normal, but some of the values were barely in range.  The additional tests are to make sure nothing was missed.  Even if everything’s fine, we need to monitor your health for a while to make sure no problems develop.  So you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with her,” I told him.  “If you can manage not to deck her, the rest of the day’s activities should be more enjoyable.”

“I dunno, that’s asking a _lot_.  She _really_ could use a good punch to the face!” he grumbled.

“No arguments there, but we need her.  So behave!” I scolded.  “After the clinic, I want you to meet Crowley, our neighbor on this floor.  We’re going to visit him at the bank he runs since he’s not available for the next few nights and then go out to lunch afterward.”

Dean asked, “This is ‘cause of Alastair, right?  What makes this Crowley dude such a big deal?”

“As far as most of the community is aware, Crowley’s a demon who owns several businesses in the city, including the bank and the club I went to last week.  A smaller number of people know that he’s the leader of the crossroads demons, who make deals for people’s souls.  But the truth is that Crowley is the highest ranking demon in this community and maybe even further,” I explained.  “I’ve seen him overrule the top dogs around here, including Alastair.  If _he’s_ on our side, I can use him to trump Alastair if necessary.”

“Dude, a _demon_?  Ain’t they all . . . well, _evil_?”

“Technically, yes.  Most communities don’t include them because of the chaos and destruction they cause.  They’re allowed here only because of Crowley.  He’s _very_ big on rules and order, and he keeps the others in line.  He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his place on top, but he’s a good friend to have if you’re not a threat to him.  Plus he can’t _stand_ Alastair.”

He looked thoughtful.  “Huh!  And you’re okay with taking me outside already?  I mean, it’s only been a few weeks that you’ve known me.  You ain’t worried that I’ll try to make a run for it or scream for help or something?”

“I trust that you won’t do anything foolish today for a couple of reasons.  First, you’ve already said you don’t want me to get hurt or in trouble, which could happen if the wrong person answers your call for help.  Second, you know enough about the security measures around here to realize that there’s no easy way to escape.”  I shrugged.  “Besides, everywhere we’re going today is run by the community, so the risk is pretty minimal.

“Listen, I know you want this collar off of your neck, but you’ve got to be patient.  We have to show everyone, especially Alastair's people, that you're not a security risk.  Baby steps first, and this trip is one of them.”

“Okay, I get that.  Thanks, Sam.  I . . . I wasn't expecting a chance to get outta here so soon.  And since it looks like we got some time before we hafta leave for the clinic . . .”  He rolled on top of me and kissed me.

I'd been letting the omega set the pace over the last couple of days, from simple cuddling up to if he felt comfortable pleasuring himself while in my arms.  This morning we started out kissing languidly and soon progressed to wrapping our tongues around the other’s and moaning into each other’s mouth.  He idly rubbed his groin against mine while I caressed his chest under his t-shirt.  After several minutes of intense kissing and rutting, he reached into his sleep pants and began stroking his cock.  I fed off a small portion of his energy as his passion rose with the increased speed of his hands and culminated with him groaning and shuddering against me.  Even after such a light feeding, I had to fight the urge to fall back asleep.

“Man, that felt awesome, but now my pants are fucking gross!” he complained.  “I’m gonna get cleaned up.”

After he staggered off to his room, I took a shower and dealt with my own erection, which also took care of the drowsiness.  By the time I finished dressing and went to the kitchen, he'd already started to prepare breakfast.  I sat and watched as he fried up eggs, sausages, and hash browns.

As we finished eating, Dean suddenly exclaimed, “Fuck!  Is there a pharmacy on the way?”

“The clinic has its own pharmacy.  Why?” I asked in concern.

“If I’m going out in public, I’m gonna need scent blockers.  Otherwise every asshole alpha in a five-mile radius is gonna come running, and I figure kicking their drooling asses _ain’t_ the kinda attention you want,” he replied.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Remember when you said you never realized how tough we omegas have it?  Well, _this_ is another reason why.  The smell of an unmated omega is like fucking catnip to you guys, ‘cept you get horny instead of stoned,” he explained.  “The decent sorta alpha learns to control his reaction, but there are too many pushy douchebags who get a whiff and then try to force their attentions on us omegas.  So we learn pretty quick to use blockers whenever we go anywhere.”

I looked at him anxiously.  “Do . . . do _I_ ever bother you?”

“Nah, _you’re_ okay.  You just get this dopey look and are a little more touchy-feely when you’re sniffing me.  It’s kinda cute.”  He patted my shoulder reassuringly.

“That’s good.  But you have to tell me if I do _anything_ to make you uncomfortable.  Now give me a couple of minutes to take down the containment spell, and then we’ll get going,” I said.

I returned to my bedroom and removed the spell instructions from the safe.  The orange light flashed again after I chanted the words of dismissal, and I stored the instructions back in the safe.  I then grabbed my keys and phone and headed for the front door.

Dean took a deep breath before stepping into the hallway after I opened the door.  He tried to maintain a nonchalant expression as we got on the elevator, but he couldn’t help but bounce on the balls of his feet in excitement on the ride down.  When we reached the parking garage, I took his hand and led him to my car. 

His lip curled in derision at the silver BMW sedan as he got in.  “Nice yuppie-mobile, dude.  You _do_ know only assholes drive Beemers, right?”

“Shuddup!  Not all of us are fortunate enough to own a classic muscle car.  Plus I have an image to maintain as a junior partner,” I retorted.

He smirked.  “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sam.  Although as a lawyer, I guess ‘asshole’ is actually an improvement!”

“Keep it up, funny boy.  I’m pretty sure I can get you to fit in the trunk!”

He quieted when we left the garage and peered out the window on the drive to the clinic, his nose practically pressed to the glass. 

“I’m sorry, Dean.  I should’ve done this sooner and not left you cooped up in the apartment so long,” I said a few minutes into the drive.

“I ain’t gonna deny that the walls have been kinda closing in on me, even with how big your place is,” he replied without moving his eyes away from the window.  “But I get why, man.  After all, this whole security of your community thing is the main priority, right?”

Shame washed over me, realizing he thought that was how I felt.  “That’s not true.  _Your_ well-being is what’s most important to me, not the community’s.  And this _isn’t_ a trust issue either.  I . . . I just let myself get complacent with how well things seem to be going.  But I should’ve noticed that this was bothering you.”

“I guess better late than never.  And I mean, I really _wasn’t_ expecting to get out so soon.  So let’s just enjoy today instead of angsting over shoulda, woulda, coulda,” he said as we arrived at the clinic.

After parking in the attached lot, I took his hand again as we went inside.  While we were sitting in the waiting area, I noticed a burly djinn a few chairs away start to sniff the air.  He turned his head, gave Dean a slow onceover, and began to leer.  The omega fortunately was leafing through a magazine and appeared not to notice.  I glared over his head at the other alpha and let my fangs show.

“Done thumping your chest there, Kong?” Dean muttered, low enough that no one else could hear.  “ _Now_ do you see why I need fucking scent blockers?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it now.  We’ll hit the pharmacy before we leave.”

A nurse came out shortly after and took us back to an examination room, where she measured Dean’s vitals and obtained blood and urine samples.  Once he changed into a hospital gown, she led him to the radiology department for the tests, while I killed time in a nearby waiting room.  After about an hour, we returned to the exam room to wait for Dr. Talbot.

She came in a few minutes later and looked Dean over.  “Well, you’re certainly looking better!  Being Sam’s pet seems to be agreeing with you, Dean.”

His fists clenched, and I quickly put a hand on his shoulder.  I leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Play nice and I’ll buy you pie!”

The doctor meanwhile continued speaking.  “Your X-rays and ultrasounds came back normal, as did the echocardiogram, so we’ll use them as baselines.  I’ll want you to come in every six months for a physical and blood work and every twelve months for the other tests.  This will be to monitor you for adverse effects from your suppressant abuse.  If your results remain normal for at least five years, we can safely assume that you didn’t incur any long-term consequences and dial the physicals back to yearly.

“As far as short-term consequences go, your blood work and urinalysis indicate that the suppressants have sufficiently cleared your system for your cycle to start again.  Based on your current hormone levels, I’d estimate that you should experience your first heat in six to eight weeks.  As I mentioned before, this heat and possibly the next one as well will be quite a bit stronger than normal.”

“Whaddya mean exactly by _stronger_?” Dean asked.  His face had paled, and his breathing had sped up.

“For starters, expect it to last about twice as long, so at least four to six days.  The temperature spike will be a couple of degrees higher, and your sexual drive will be much more intense,” she explained.  “I would recommend using sex toys very sparingly.  You’re going to need as much contact with your alpha as possible—his scent, his touch, and most importantly his semen.”

I brought my other hand up and began massaging the omega’s shoulders.  “What would happen if he doesn’t . . . uh, turn to an alpha to help him through his heat?”

“I would _strongly_ advise against that.  Without a sufficient amount of intercourse with an alpha, his temperature will continue to rise, he will then suffer the equivalent of severe heat stroke, and he could die.  Even if he survives, the extremely high fever could leave him with permanent brain damage,” Dr. Talbot said bluntly.

I glared at her.  “You said this heat wouldn’t be dangerous!”

“Well, considering why you bought him, I assumed the sex part wasn’t an issue!” she snapped back.  “As long as you man up and fuck him senseless like you’re supposed to, he’ll be _fine_.”

Dean made a distressed noise, and his panic spiked.  I immediately embraced him and told the doctor, “Please give us a few minutes of privacy _now_.”

As soon as she left, I sat on the exam table and pulled him onto my lap.  I rubbed his back and murmured, “It’s okay, baby.  Breathe slowly and stay calm.  We’ve got nearly two months, and a lot can happen in that time.  We’re not going to rush anything, and if you’re still not ready when your heat comes, we’ll figure something else out.”

“Like—like wh—what?” he gasped into my chest, where he’d buried his face and gripped my shirt.

“I don’t really know yet.  There _has_ to be other methods of dealing with an extreme heat, and we just have to research into them,” I replied.  “Maybe give you repeated ice baths to keep your temperature down.  Or—or collect my cum so you can use it to lube up a vibrator or something.”

That elicited a weak chuckle.  “Really, dude?  You’re gonna what, jerk off into a fu—fucking bucket for a week?  An—and then store that shit in the fridge ‘til I need it?”

“Hey, if that’s what it takes, then I don’t care how ridiculous it is!”  I tilted his face up and gave him a gentle kiss.  “The important thing is that we’ll work this out _together_.  You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“O—okay, Sammy.  Sorry for freaking out on you again.”

“No need to apologize.  Let’s get Dr. Bitchy back in here to finish up so we can get out of here.  Do you want to go home?  I can call Crowley to reschedule.”

He took a deep breath and sat up.  “Nah, I’ll be alright.  Ju—just gimme a few minutes.  Don’t wanna mess up my first trip outside!”

Once Dean was feeling calmer, I went to find Dr. Talbot.  She didn’t have more to tell us, so we left after he got dressed again.  We made a brief stop at the pharmacy to pick up some scent blockers, and he ducked into the bathroom to apply them.  His alluring odor was barely noticeable when he emerged, which made me feel odd.  We then returned to my car, where he remained quiet and subdued during the drive.

Upon arriving at the bank and getting past one of Crowley’s supercilious flunkies, we were shown into his office.  Crowley came around his desk and shook my hand.  “Hullo again, Moose!  Pardon the toady.  He’s been desperately sucking up ever since he cocked up a major account.”

I grinned at the demon.  “No problem, man.  Crowley, this is Dean Winchester.  Dean, this is Crowley.  Don’t let the accent and charming demeanor fool you—he’s a total asshole.”

"Yeah, he’s warned me about you already,” Dean said with a smile as he in turn shook Crowley’s hand.

“Hah hah, Moose.  Everything he said is quite exaggerated, I’m sure.  Unless it was flattering, in which case it’s the absolute truth,” Crowley responded with a smirk.  “Winchester . . . now where have I heard that name before?”

Dean shrugged as he sat down next to me on the leather couch.  “I dunno, dude.  I never heard about you guys and your community ‘til those Market dickwads grabbed me.  And my family ain’t that big as far as I know, so I doubt you coulda run into a cousin or something.”

“Family, that’s it!”  Crowley snapped his fingers as he leaned against his desk.  “ _Now_ I remember!  And you’re welcome.”

“Huh?  What the hell are you talking ‘bout?”

“Hell is _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” Crowley replied.  “A number of years ago, a rogue demon made a number of unauthorized deals without my say-so.  All part of some big plot to start the Apocalypse, release Lucifer, create Hell on Earth, yadda yadda.  I eventually got wind of what he was doing and put a stop to it.”

“ _Lucifer_?  As in the fucking _Devil_?  Why would a demon wanna stop that shit?”  Dean looked confused.

“Not all demons are the same.  Quite a number of us rather like your world as is.  Hell is . . . well, it’s bloody _hell_ , and not even _we_ like to be there.  Turn the Earth into the same sodding mess?  No, thank you!  As for the Morningstar, he may have created the first of us, but he’s still a damn _archangel_.  If he ever got out, he’d smite the lot of us once we were no longer useful.

“So once I uncovered Azazel’s plans, I leaked the pertinent information to some hunters.  Along with the location of a gun created by Samuel Colt himself and rumored to be able to kill anything.  A couple of them found the gun, tracked down the demon, and sent him ungentle into that good night,” Crowley explained.

“What does this hafta do with my family?” Dean demanded.

“You have a younger brother, correct?  Have you ever wondered how your mother _really_ died?”

“Mom died in a house fire caused by faulty wiring when I was four.  Dad never believed that, but he ain’t been playing with a full deck since her death.  How are she or Sammy related to the fucking _Apocalypse_?”  The omega was starting to look upset.

“Old Yellow-Eyes’ M.O. was to make deals with young women long before they had children, asking for access to their child in ten years instead of their souls.  Then on the night of the child’s six-month birthday, he entered their nursery and fed them a few drops of his blood to create a connection and activate any latent psychic abilities.  If the mother tried to interfere, Azazel killed her and set the nursery on fire.”  The demon paused and looked directly at Dean.  “Mary was one of those mothers and little Sam one of those children.”

Dean slumped back with a stunned expression.  “Dad . . . he always thought she’d been murdered and dragged me all over the damn country trying to find her killer.  He used to rave ‘bout a yellow-eyed man and Mom being pinned to the ceiling over Sammy’s crib with her stomach cut open.  He did find out ‘bout a few similar cases and was convinced he was chasing a serial killer.”

“Your father was partially correct,” Crowley said.  “My condolences, for what they’re worth.  I didn’t learn about these deals until _after_ the nursery attacks.  And apologies for putting a damper on our first meeting.”

Dean shook his head.  “No, it—it’s good to know the truth.  And I guess you did stop worse things from happening to Sammy.  So . . . he’s some kinda spoon-bender now?”

“In theory, yes.  But without Yellow-Eyes’ influence, his abilities will probably remain dormant.  To be safe, I have some of my people keeping an eye on Sam and the rest of the ‘special’ children.  To make sure no one tries to pick up where Azazel left off, you understand.  His goal was for these children to become the officers in Satan’s army when he tried to conquer the world.  _Not_ something the rest of us want to see!”

I put an arm around Dean’s shoulders.  “I never heard about any of this before!  Any chance that Lucifer’s other supporters could cause trouble?”

“I tried to keep all this hush-hush—no need to air Hell’s dirty laundry up here.  Or toot my own horn.”  The other alpha attempted to look modest.  “As for Old Scratch’s minions, I made sure the high-level ones were locked up tight or otherwise neutralized.  The lower ones had to convert to _my_ side or be demoted to hellhound chow.  Speaking of which, we _must_ introduce Dean to Juliet!”

I laughed.  “That will certainly be interesting!”

Crowley smirked.  “So tell me what you’ve been up to since we last chatted and how you crazy kids met.”

I filled him in on the events of the past few weeks, although with most of the private details edited out—I didn’t need the community gossiping even _more_ about my love life!  Crowley in turned shared some amusing stories about his underlings and mutual acquaintances, complete with colorful commentary on their personal habits and IQ levels.  Dean initially was quiet, his expression pensive, but joined in on the conversation after a while.  Eventually though, the discussion was interrupted by a loud rumble from his stomach.

“Right then—I believe that’s our cue to break for lunch,” Crowley announced.  “Let me give some instructions to the bootlickers here, and then I’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome!  ‘Cause I dunno ‘bout you two, but I’m _starving_!  C’mon, Sam.”  Dean grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This outing is obviously a big departure from the original story. As I mentioned before, keeping someone constantly locked inside your house, no matter how nice your house is, and expecting them to do well isn't realistic, and Sam knows that. With all the security precautions the community places on people like Dean--the collar, RFID chip, control over the police and other emergency responders, etc.--Sam feels that taking Dean out to controlled locations isn't too big of a risk. Plus Dean has professed to not want Sam to get hurt, and Sam seems to be willing to take him at his word.
> 
> Bela's description of what Dean's next heat will be like and what needs to be done for it has certainly thrown a wrench in both his and Sam's expectations--because we can't have things be easy for the boys now, can we? Holing up in his room by himself with a vibrator isn't an option anymore, and at the same time neither of them want Dean to be forced to have sex with Sam. We'll have to see if they can progress to the point where Dean is willing to have sex or if they can find another solution . . .
> 
> Most AUs tend to completely ignore the canon storyline, so I thought it would be an interesting twist to include the YED story arc (and how it relates to the Apocalypse) as part of the Winchester family history, even if they didn't know it. This is just history though and won't affect this story directly--the focus of this story is still on Sam and Dean, their fucked-up situation, and how their relationship develops. I hope this doesn't seem too cracktastic!
> 
> I've decided to remove the total chapter count and leave it as a ? for now. The original number was only meant to be a placeholder since I knew this story would end up being more than 20 chapters. Rather than repeatedly updating the count as I go, I'll wait until I'm closer to the end to put in a final number. Next week's update will be posted on Sunday since I'll be spending the week at my parents' house again to recover from chemo treatment #4. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day! :)


	12. Chapter 12

“Where are we going?” Dean inquired as we drove.

“It’s a bar called Harvelle’s.  The owner, Ellen, used to own another bar called the Roadhouse somewhere out in Nebraska.  Her husband was a hunter until his death about ten years ago, and the bar was a frequent stop for hunters from all over.  When it burned down during a demon attack a few years ago, Ellen intentionally moved here and built a new bar.  She’d heard about the community somehow, and she wanted to prevent her daughter Jo from following in her father’s footsteps—from becoming a hunter like him and dying like him,” I explained.

“How’s living in a city full of monsters gonna help?  Wouldn’t the kid just get into _more_ fucking trouble?” he asked in confusion.

“Jo’s headstrong but not stupid, and she’s realized that the community and its security are too powerful for one half-trained young woman to take on,” I replied.  “Also like you, Charlie, and many others, she’s learned that there are good people here who could be hurt by any rash actions.”

“Huh!  It still seems weird, going from being around hunters all the time to now being surrounded by the things they hunt.  I’m guessing though that neither of ‘em are fans of shit like the Food Market.”

“And you’d be right about that.  But that’s not why we’re going there today.  Ellen’s a friend, the food and drinks are pretty good, and it’s a safe place for people from the community to congregate.”  I paused and gave him a concerned glance.  “So . . . how are you handling Crowley’s revelations about your mother and brother?”

“I dunno, I’m still trying to process it.  It’s a lot to take in, finding out there’s been all this supernatural shit around my family, and we didn’t know it!  I always thought my dad was just nuts with his serial-killer crap, and it turns out he was actually close to the truth,” the younger man said.  “But now I’m really worried ‘bout Sammy.  I know Crowley says he’s watching over the kid, but how much can I trust this dude?”

“Well, you can always trust Crowley to look after his own interests, and he has lots of reasons to not want Lucifer released.  So yeah, I think he’ll do his best to prevent anyone from following in Azazel’s footsteps and trying to use your brother or the others,” I replied.

“Yeah, but . . . what if he decides the best way to do that is to kill Sammy and the other special kids?”

“I don’t know about the others, but I think Sammy is pretty safe.  Like I said before, Crowley can be a good friend, and he knows you’re important to me.  He wouldn’t risk indirectly hurting me by killing your brother unless he had no other option.  But if it’ll make you feel better, we can talk to Benny when he comes over tomorrow night to see if he knows someone trustworthy near Stanford who can check up on Sammy,” I offered.

He nodded.  “Thanks, Sam.  That _will_ help.  I just . . . I just wish I could make sure he’s okay myself.”

I sighed.  “I wish you could too.  Unfortunately, that’s entirely up to the Council, since they control the collars.  I know they do occasionally temporarily deactivate one to allow the . . . um, owner to take their human companion out of the city for a short time, like for a business trip or vacation.  But it takes _a lot_ to convince the Council that there won’t be a security risk, especially if the human hasn’t been . . . broken.  Add in the fact in your case that Bobby is a known hunter and . . . I don’t want to say it’s impossible, but it _will_ take some time.”

“Yeah, I figured it ain’t gonna be easy.  But . . . I guess it’s something we can work toward, right?”  He looked at me hopefully.

“We can certainly try.”

We soon pulled up to the bar and found parking nearby.  Dean looked around curiously when he got out of the car but showed no sign of bolting.  He instead casually looped his arm through mine and let me lead him inside.

From what I’d been told, the interior of Harvelle’s was an upscale version of the old Roadhouse.  A large U-shaped bar with wooden stools dominated the center of the room.  Booths with leather-upholstered benches lined two of the walls, and square tables with seating for two to four customers filled most of the floor.  A jukebox sat near the front door, and a couple of pool tables and dart boards were positioned along the far wall.  Doors along the back wall led to the restrooms, kitchen, and storerooms.  The walls were decorated with hunter paraphernalia—antique weapons, occult symbols, and drawings of various supernatural creatures.  Everything was meticulously clean, polished, and showed clear pride of ownership.

The seating currently was about half-full, which was low compared to the usual lunchtime crowd.  As we approached the bar, I could see that Ellen seemed to have lost her normally unflappable demeanor.  She instead appeared rather harried as she poured several drinks and set them on a tray.

She looked up and attempted to smile when she saw me.  “Sam!  Sweetie, you know I usually love to see you, but I’m afraid this ain’t the best time to come here for lunch.”

“What’s the matter, Ellen?”

She waited until one of the servers picked up the tray before answering.  “What’s wrong is my dumbass cook called in sick at the last minute—still hungover is more like it!  And my assistant cook is out of town today for a cousin’s wedding.  My head server is still home incubating her egg, so the others are already running ragged and can’t fill in in the kitchen.  Jo has a big test today and won’t be in until two.  And while I love Ash dearly, I can’t exactly trust him behind the bar or in the kitchen.  So I hafta try to run the bar _and_ the damn kitchen myself!  I’ve turned away some of the regulars who I know would be understanding ‘bout this mess, but there’s _still_ a lotta people waiting on their food.”

Dean stepped forward.  “Uh, maybe I can help?  What sorta stuff is on your menu?”

“Ellen, this is my . . . um, friend, Dean,” I quickly interjected.

Ellen’s gaze flicked over the omega’s collar before focusing on his face.  “It’s mostly standard bar fare—burgers, cheesesteaks, wings, fries, shit like that.  You ever work in a kitchen before, kid?”

He shrugged.  “I’ve worked a few stints in diner and bar kitchens before.  If you want, I can help out in yours.  Just lemme look at your menu to see if there’s anything I dunno how to make.”

She looked back at me.  “Whaddya say to this, Sam?”

“Dean’s an _excellent_ cook, so you don’t have to worry there!” I replied enthusiastically.

I paused as I realized that allowing the other man to do this would mean letting him out of my sight, and I was sure there was both a phone and a back door accessible from the kitchen.  But when I looked over at him, I sensed no guile or furtiveness, only curiosity and an almost child-like excitement.  I took a deep breath as I realized I had to trust him sometime.

“If he wants to do this, I think he’d be a big help,” I continued firmly.

“Well, I guess I ain’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth,” she said briskly.  “Dean, why don’t you follow me and I’ll show you around?  Sam, you can take a seat wherever you want.  Are you expecting anyone else?”

“Crowley should be joining us soon.”  I watched as Dean gave me a wide grin before leaving with Ellen, and then claimed a booth.

Crowley popped in soon after and slid into the bench across from me.  “Been waiting long, Moose?  And where’s Squirrel?”

I made a mental note to squash any attempts by Dean to pick up _this_ nickname.  The occasional _Sammy_ was cute coming from him, though _not_ anyone else.  But no way did I need _him_ calling me _Moose_ too—it was bad enough that I couldn’t break the demon of the damn habit. 

“He’s helping out in the kitchen.  Ellen’s cook bailed on her and left her in a bind, and Dean offered to step in,” I answered.  “We should wait a bit before ordering, to give him a chance to catch up on the backlog.”

“I can certainly see why you’re smitten with him, beyond his obvious physical appeal.  But you don’t seem as pleased as one would expect,” Crowley observed.

“I guess I never considered all the consequences when I went to the Food Market.  I wish I’d found him _anywhere_ else,” I admitted.  “Things _seem_ to be going well, but . . . I don’t always know if he’s doing something because he _wants_ to or because he feels he _has_ to.  I ask, of course, but who knows if he’s telling me the truth or what he _thinks_ I want to hear?”

“I don’t think I’m the best person to give you advice on the matter, I’m afraid.  We demons tend not to worry about such niceties.”  He leaned back against his seat.  “Why don’t you tell what you think will bring Alastair sniffing around instead?”

“Turns out that Dean’s foster father is a known hunter.  Dean wasn’t aware of this, of course—he didn’t think the supernatural was real before being captured,” I explained.  “There’s no risk—the hunter doesn’t know anything that could lead him here.  But it’s still the sort of thing that Alastair and his goons will try to latch onto.”

“I take it that this wasn’t discovered prior to you purchasing your lovely young man?”

“No, it seems that the Market did a botched job on their usual background check, since this wasn’t the only thing they missed.  Which gives me a scapegoat to distract Alastair with,” I said.  “I’m pretty sure I can handle him, but in case he proves to be more difficult than I expect—”

“You’d like me to serve as backup,” he concluded.  “Well, you know it doesn’t take much to convince me to bugger that git’s plans, and you’ve done me a good turn a time or two.  Plus it would be a bloody waste to let that arse get his mitts on our _delectable_ friend there.”

“Back away, dude.  Dean is _not_ up for grabs!” I growled warningly at the other alpha.

“Calm down, Gargantua!  I was just yanking your chain!”  The demon smirked at me.  “Though you _should_ claim him soon, before someone with less self-control gets to him first.”

“You know I’m not going to do _that_ without his permission!” I retorted.  “I can keep him safe until then, _if_ that even ever happens.”

Before Crowley could say anything else, I saw Ellen emerge from the back, look around, and then make a beeline toward our booth.  Her expression as she approached was grim and disapproving.  I slumped down, well-aware of what was coming.

“Crowley, do you mind going off and powdering your nose or something for a few minutes?”  She waited until he disappeared and then took his seat.  “Samuel Campbell, you mind telling me why that poor boy has a _collar_ around his neck?  Please don’t tell me you _actually_ patronized the damn Market!”

I rubbed a hand over my face before replying.  “I’m afraid I did, and I’m not proud of myself.  I was just _tired_ of constantly trolling the local bars and clubs each week for a meal.  And you know there’s always risks involved, even with the community’s protection.  So I . . . I let my resolve weaken, and I went _there_.  I figured . . . at least whoever came home with _me_ would be safe and taken care of, as opposed to what would happen with most of the other customers.”

She looked incredulous.  “You honestly think that justifies making another sentient being your _slave_?  Because if you cut through the bullshit, you _know_ that’s what you’ve done—no matter how well you may be treating Dean!  There ain’t no way that’s _ever_ gonna be alright!

“On top of that, _every_ bit of financial support to shitholes like the Market makes it _that_ much harder to shut them down, and you know it!  And I imagine someone like Dean cost quite a pretty penny!  What were you _thinking_?”

“I know it wasn’t right, Ellen!  And I know _exactly_ how much of a hypocrite I am!  ” I exclaimed.  “I was weak and wrong, and you can’t make me feel worse than I do myself!  But this wasn’t _just_ about having an easy food source.  I . . . I was _lonely_ , and I was hoping I’d find a—a companion, someone who’d eventually become a friend . . . or _more_.

“I promise, I haven’t done anything to hurt him, and I _never_ will!  We’ve barely done more than kiss, and I always make sure it’s something _he_ wants.  I wish I _could_ free him, so that we could have a _real_ relationship.  But until we find a way to remove those collars safely ourselves, there’s nothing more I can do.  I’m stuck doing things the Council’s way for now, and that take _time_.”

“Oh, Sam . . .”  Ellen shook her head.  “Honey, you’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess!  Well, I guess you know I ain’t ever gonna approve of what you did, but I won’t dump on you anymore either.  And . . . just so you know, I _did_ lock the door to my office, where my computer and the other phone is, and the back door.  Much as that boy deserves a chance to get out, I’m still not gonna let a friend get in trouble.”

“I appreciate that, for as little as I know I deserve it.”  I paused and then decided to try to change the subject.  “So how’s Dean doing back there?”

“He knows his way around a kitchen, that’s for sure—maybe even better than the idiot who’s supposed to be here right now.  Looks like the first of his orders are coming out, so we’ll see how the customers like his cooking,” she said.  “Listen, I’ve gotta get back to the bar.  But I wanna talk to both you and Crowley later ‘bout something business-related.  So don’t leave before then!”

“Sure.  I’ll go back and see how he’s getting along in a little while, if you don’t mind,” I responded.

She nodded, rose, and returned to work.  Crowley reappeared in her place, but fortunately didn’t rib me much about the scolding.  We instead chatted about the latest soccer matches we’d seen.  While we talked, I watched as a steady stream of servers went through the door to the kitchen and came out laden with trays of food.

Once the rush died down, I headed into the kitchen.  Dean was stirring a bowl of some kind of sauce, while also keeping an eye on the grill and fryer.  He was humming and nodding along to a classic rock station playing on a small radio up on a shelf as he worked.

“Hey, hope I’m not disturbing you.  Are you doing okay?” I asked as I looked for a spot where I wouldn’t be in the way and finally settled on a stool in the corner.

He grinned back at me.  “Nah, you’re fine.  And things are going pretty well so far.  Pretty standard set-up in here for a bar kitchen—maybe even a little _too_ basic, going by what the other guy used as ‘recipes.’  I mean, a hamburger patty should be more than just a fucking slab of frozen ground beef, ya know?  Anyway, I got all the backed-up orders out, and nothing’s been sent back yet, so that’s a good sign!”

“If what you feed _me_ is anything to go by, the diners out there are going to be _ecstatic_ ,” I told him.  “You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

The omega’s cheeks turned pink at the compliment.  “I like cooking for people—it’s why I cook so much for the two of us.  I’ve worked a lotta different jobs to support myself over the years, but my favorite’s always been working in a kitchen.  And . . . thanks for letting me do this, Sam.  I know it ain’t easy letting me outta your sight like this.”

“It did worry me at first but . . . You’ve been giving me _your_ trust, so it’s time that I tried to reciprocate.  Though I’d totally understand if you booked out the back door here.”

“I ain’t gonna do something like that, and not just ‘cause it’d be a waste of time with _this_ still ‘round my neck.”  He tapped on the collar.  “I’ll admit, I _hate_ being trapped by this piece of shit and the spell and everything else.  If I could get rid of ‘em somehow, I’d do it in a heartbeat.  But at the same time, I—I like living with you and don’t wanna mess that up.  More than that . . . I like _you_.

“All this crap really fucking screws with my head sometimes, ya know?  But I don’t wanna do something stupid that’s gonna ruin my chances for getting free _or_ what we’ve got going on.”  He dropped his gaze, his cheeks flushed even more.

“I _really_ don’t deserve you, do you know that?”  I stepped up to him, wrapped my hands around his waist, and kissed him gently, feeling a sense of relief at his words.  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d been secretly worried that I’d made a grave error in letting him loose like this.

He returned the kiss for a moment and then whacked me with a spatula.  “Okay, that’s enough, Romeo!  What’ve I told you ‘bout distracting me around fire and sharp things?”

“Alright, alright!”  I put my hands up and returned to the stool, where I rubbed my shoulder ruefully.  “How much longer are you going to be in here?”

“I think there’s ‘bout another half-hour before Ellen’s daughter gets here, and then I gotta explain what changes I made to the recipes to whoever’s taking over the kitchen, in case they wanna use ‘em,” Dean said as he started flipping burgers on the grill.  “Did you two order anything yet?”

“Just drinks for now.  I want to wait to eat until you’re done so we can enjoy the meal together.  Demons don’t really need to eat, so Crowley doesn’t mind the delay.”  I grimaced and added, “Besides which, Ellen is pretty much on _your_ side, so I doubt she’d let the servers bring us any food without you!”

He smirked at me.  “Poor, poor Sammy!  Well, lemme know what you guys want, and I’ll cook it up before I finish in here, along with my own lunch.  Sound like a plan?”

I nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll find out what he wants and put in our order.  I should go back to our table soon anyways.  Ellen said she has something she wants to discuss with Crowley and I.”

Despite my words, I lingered for a few more minutes, admiring the graceful and assured way Dean moved around the kitchen.  He looked so comfortable, so natural in here, as he did when in the kitchen at our apartment.  It made me wonder how his life might’ve turned out if he hadn’t been scarred by his past and limited by his designation.

Upon returning to our booth, I had just enough time to consult with Crowley and give our order to one of the servers before Ellen came over.  I slid over to make room for her to sit and commented, “You seem in a better mood now that the food is coming out regularly once more.”

“You can say that again!  Dean’s been a godsend!  Not only did he catch up on the orders way faster than expected, but everyone’s been _raving_ about how good their food is!” she exclaimed.  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could hire him to work here on a more regular basis?”

I heaved a sigh.  “I _really_ wish you could, Ellen, especially since he’d _love_ it.  But there are just too many risks.  I don’t _think_ Dean would try to run, but the temptation to ask someone for help or make a call would be too great.  I’d also be worried about _his_ safety—I don’t want to chance someone going after him because of the collar or because he’s an omega.  I know you’d do your best to protect him, but you can’t keep your eye on him all the time.”

“That’s what I figured.  I understand, Sam—though I hope you realize you can’t keep him under lock and key forever, even if you think it’s for his own good.  Though Lord knows letting go ain’t easy—just look at me and Jo!”  She shook her head ruefully before looking at both of us seriously.

“I’m looking for some advice from you two in your professional capacities.  Business here at the bar has been fantastic pretty much ever since we opened, even better than at the old Roadhouse.  I’ve been thinking ‘bout expanding for a while now—either opening a second location or turning this place into something bigger.

“As luck would have it, the clothing store next door closed down recently, and the space is available to lease or purchase.  I’m seriously considering buying it and then renovating the whole site to turn it into a proper bar-and-grill restaurant, instead of just a bar that serves some food.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea!” I responded.  “If you want my firm to handle the sale and other legal transactions, we can reopen your file from when we managed the initial purchase of the bar.”

“And since you’re already a valued long-time customer, my bank would be glad to process a new mortgage to finance the purchase and renovations,” Crowley added.  “I assume you’ll be using the bar as collateral for the loan?”

“That’s right.  I also got a good amount saved away that I can put towards this if necessary,” Ellen said.  “I’ve already done a walk-through of the property next door with the realtor and contacted an architect to start drafting up some plans.  First step will be putting together an offer and seeing how quick we can push the sale through.  Next . . .”

The three of us discussed plans and offered suggestions for a while.  She eventually returned to the bar after making appointments at both my law firm and the bank to draw up the necessary paperwork to get the processes started.  Jo appeared from the back a short while later and joined her mother behind the bar.  After briefly conversing with her daughter, Ellen headed towards the kitchen.

Dean emerged about ten minutes later bearing a laden tray.  After unloading the plates and handing the tray off to a nearby server, he flopped down beside me with a relieved smile.  “Ellen’s taken over the kitchen, so I’m all yours now!  What’d she wanna talk to you two ‘bout?”

I first took a bite of my chicken cheesesteak and savored the juicy, perfectly seasoned mouthful for a moment before swallowing.  “Mmm!  She wants to buy the storefront next door and expand the bar into a full restaurant.”

“So naturally she turned to us for assistance with legal and financial matters,” Crowley continued.  “I must say that I’m pleasantly surprised by this meal, Squirrel.  I’ve had many attempts at fish and chips inflicted on me in this bloody country that generally ranged from mediocre to downright appalling.  But Jolly Green here insisted that I try yours today, and this tastes almost as good as from my favorite pub back home.”

“Um, well, it ain’t a big deal . . . Glad you like it, I guess.”  Dean hid his reddened face behind his bacon cheeseburger.  “And good for Ellen!  I hope this works out for her.”

“Quite!  And Moose explained that you might run into a bit of trouble with that arsehole Alastair in the near future.  I’m always willing to help out a friend, and causing _him_ trouble is just gravy.  So please feel free to call on me should you need the support,” the demon said.

“Thanks, man.  Me and Sam really appreciate that!”

We all then devoted our attention to our food.  As we ate heartily, a couple of the servers stopped by at different times to whisper something in Dean’s ear.  Crowley and I looked on in bemusement as the younger man blushed furiously each time.  From the mixture of embarrassment and pride I got off of him, I presumed they were relaying compliments from other diners regarding his cooking.

Crowley soon wiped his mouth and fingers clean and dropped a twenty on the table.  “I’m afraid I have to return to my daily grind.  Look me up the next time you stop at the club, particularly if you’re bringing this one along.  And Moose, if I were you, I would seriously consider the offer Ellen made earlier.  Bloody shame to waste this kind of talent otherwise.”  And with that, he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be an interesting twist to leave Ellen and Jo close to canon, a former hunter family that managed to integrate into the supernatural community in this city. Ellen never struck me as very gungho about hunting--she only became an active hunter after Jo did, and before that ran the bar and gave support to other hunters. Her priority was always keeping Jo safe. I figure this Ellen heard about the community from someone like canon Lenore--a monster that Bill met but didn't kill--and decided after the Roadhouse burned down that the best way to keep her headstrong daughter from ending up like her husband was to move to someplace where it'd be too risky to do anything stupid like hunt. 
> 
> When I first started writing this story, I was having trouble trying to decide what Dean would do with himself if/when Sam loosens the leash. I didn't want to copy Wrapped in Honey with the building custom R/C cars idea (which was very cool!), and I have another story already where he becomes a mechanic. This chapter gives an obvious hint about what I chose should Dean get the chance to earn his own way. :) Sam meanwhile probably had his butt clenched the whole time Dean was away, worrying that he'd book out of there at some point. Fortunately for his nerves, Dean is smart enough to realize that running now with no plan is a dumb idea.
> 
> My chemo treatment got postponed to this Friday, which is why this chapter is going up today instead of yesterday. Next week's update will get posted Sunday evening before I go to my parents' house to recover. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Dean looked over where Crowley had been sitting in curiosity.  “Huh!  What the hell was _that_ ‘bout?”

“It was nothing.  Ellen . . . Ellen just had some suggestions about who should be brought in to do the renovations, and she mentioned a couple mutual acquaintances,” I replied hastily, feeling like a total ass.

Before he could press further, Jo sauntered over.  She eyed Dean avidly and then threw a razor-edged smile my way.  “Hey, Sam!  Who’s _this_?”

“Dean, meet Joanna Harvelle.  Jo, this is Dean Winchester.  And before you ask—yes, I bought him at the Market, and yes, I know I’m complete scum.  Your mother already read me the riot act,” I said.

Dean extended a hand.  “Nice to meetcha.  Your mom was sure glad you were able to come here to help out after your class.”

Jo shook his hand, then pulled a few bills out of her apron pocket.  “We’re the ones who should be thanking _you_ for saving our asses in the kitchen!  From what Mom said, things might’ve gotten ugly here if you hadn’t stepped in.  So she wants you to have this—it’s what she’d pay our cook for his time plus a little extra as a show of gratitude.  And the servers wanted to give you a share of the tips from the past hour too as a token of _their_ appreciation.”

He looked surprised as he took the money from her.  “I . . . I wasn’t looking to get paid for this—was just trying to help out, that’s all.”

“Well, it’s the least we can do, so take it!  And your food and drinks today are on the house too!” she insisted.  “So . . . have you been here long?”

“Just a few weeks—I was at the Market for ‘bout five days, and I’ve been with Sam for nearly a month.  Sam . . . Sam’s been pretty good to me, under the circumstances.”

“So you don’t mind?” she asked skeptically.

He glared angrily up at her.  “Of course I fucking _mind_!  I _hate_ having this _thing_ ‘round my neck like a goddamn dog, _hate_ not being able to leave, and the rest of this shit!  But there ain’t anything either me or him can do ‘bout it, so we’re stuck playing by _their_ damn rules for now.”

I put an arm around his shoulders and stared at her warningly.  “Jo, if you’re just going to piss him off—”

Jo shook her head and smiled in apology.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.  I—I understand being in a tough situation.  Not that anything I had was as bad as _this_!  But . . . I _hated_ it when we first moved here.  My dad—he spent his whole life fighting monsters, _died_ fighting them.  And then my mom _intentionally_ moved us to a place _controlled_ by the damn things!  I was _so_ mad at her for a very long time . . .

“But eventually I made friends with people like Sam and realized that not everything supernatural is a monster.  And the community _does_ do a lot of good here—they keep the city safe and prosperous, even for its human inhabitants.  If it weren’t for shit like the Food Market and its slave system, this might be one of the best places to live around here.”

“So you don’t wanna be a hunter now?”

“No, not anymore.  Right now, I want to help the people _here_ who need it—people who are in situations like yours but don’t have someone like Sam looking out for them,” she said.  “It’s not exactly easy, since most of the people who support the Market don’t exactly give a damn about human rights, so we have to find other ways to appeal to them.”

She glanced over her shoulder.  “I’ve gotta get back to work.  Come over and talk to me before you leave though, Dean.  I think we have some . . . mutual areas of interest to discuss.”

We finished eating, and I left a twenty to cover my meal.  We grabbed a couple bottles of beer from the bar and then made our way over to the pool tables.  The closer one was occupied by a crocotta and rakshasa, but the other one was free.

As we stepped up to the pool table, I noticed a sudden drop in temperature, enough to make my breath visible.  I called out, “Hey Ash, you here?”

Ash materialized on top of the table, sitting up abruptly from a prone sprawl.  “Huh?  What?  Sorry, man—I was lying here contemplating the universe and shit and didn’t notice you coming up.”

Dean stared at his slightly translucent figure in fascination.  “Dude, are you a _ghost_?”

“Ghost, spirit, apparition, whatever,” Ash replied with a shrug.  “You must be new ‘round here, _amigo_.  The name’s Ash, though some refer to me as Dr. Badass.  I was one of the unfortunates trapped inside when the Roadhouse burned down.  Spent some time upstairs and then got bored, ‘specially with Ellen and Jo still down here.  Normally folks can’t get outta their own private blue heaven, but fortunately _I_ ain’t normal.  After some judicious use of quantum physics and a bit of mystical mumbo-jumbo, I figured a way to bust out.”

As Dean’s brows rose, I explained, “Ash is a certified genius.  He even went to MIT.”

“’Til I got kicked out for fighting.  Assholes in charge there need to learn how to chill, man.  They’re fine with kids turning the Great Dome into frigging R2-D2, but punch one preppy’s teeth down his throat for questioning your academic integrity and you get expelled,” Ash complained as he got up off the table.

“No way this guy’s some kinda super-genius!  He looks like a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie,” Dean scoffed.  “Love the hair though, man.”

“Business in the front, party in the back!”  Ash proudly flipped the ends of his mullet over his shoulder with a grin.  “I like you.”

“No offense, but ain't ghosts bad news?”

“Normally, yeah.  Most of ‘em turn vengeful after being trapped here and end up in a loop of rage, revenge, and other bad juju,” Ash answered.  “But like I said before, I ain’t normal.  I’m here ‘cause I wanna be, _and_ I can go back up there whenever I want.”

“Care to join us for a game?” I asked.  “Oh, and this is Dean.”

“Nice to meetcha, Dean.  Any friend of Sam’s is cool in my book.  And sure, I’m up for some pool.  Most of the yahoos who come here ain’t much of a challenge,” Ash said as he hopped off the table.  “So how long have you been in the know ‘bout all things dark and spooky?”

Dean grinned.  “Not that long.  I thought that sorta shit was just fairy tales and urban legends until I got dragged to the Market and saw more than I ever wanted about what the guards there are _really_ like.  I didn’t even know that my adopted dad Bobby is a hunter ‘til a few days ago!  These last several weeks have been real educational, to say the least.”

Ash looked thoughtful.  “Bobby as in Bobby Singer?  Say, your last name wouldn’t happen to be Winchester?”

Dean’s brows rose again as he racked the balls.  “Yeah.  How did you know?”

“Bobby used to come to the Roadhouse sometimes for intel or backup.  That, and I think he was kinda sweet on Ellen, ya know?  He mentioned you a few times, ‘specially after you came to live with him.”  Ash looked pensive for a moment.  “Helping him is how I ended up like this.  I was searching for patterns and shit to track that yellow-eyed demon, and its goons musta took exception to my badassery.  Burned the whole place down with me and a buncha hunters trapped inside.”

“Shit, man, I’m sorry!”  Dean bit his lip in hesitation before continuing.  “Did—did you ever meet my dad, John Wincester?”

“Nah, never had the displeasure.  Bobby said he never told the man the truth about the supernatural ‘cause he was too damn unstable—figured it’d really send him off the deep end.  From the little bit Bobby said ‘bout him, your old man sounded like a seriously fucked-up piece of work!  No offense, dude,” Ash replied forthrightly.

“None taken—you ain’t exactly wrong!”  Dean shook his head, as if shaking free of the memories.  “When’s the last time you saw Bobby?”

Ash shrugged.  “Not since the fire.  I think he felt guilty ‘bout it, even though it wasn’t his fault.  He’s avoided all of us ever since.  Shame, really.”

“Okay, enough ‘bout the shitty parts of our past!  So . . . what did you study at MIT?” Dean inquired.

“Mostly computer programming, but I did some mechanical shit too,” Ash responded while concentrating to pick up his cue.  “Helped work on this _badass_ electric car project my sophomore year.”

Dean’s ears practically perked up.  “Really?  What did you use to . . .”

I smiled in amusement as the two began to geek out, as I’d suspected they’d hit it off well.  Nor was I surprised that Dean was able to hold his own in conversation with someone like Ash.  He might belittle his own intelligence and education, but I’d seen the books he read from my library and the projects he built with the increasingly complex kits I bought for him.

After playing a couple of games, Dean and Ash headed back to the bar.  Ash went behind the bar and took over from Jo, his form turning nearly solid in appearance, while she joined Dean out on the bar stools.  The two dipped their heads together and became engrossed in conversation, with Ash contributing occasionally.  Feeling a little left out, I wandered over to the other pool table to watch a pair of human frat boys get fleeced by a kitsune.

Dean eventually wandered over to my side, and I looked at him curiously.  “So what did Jo want to talk to you about?”

“I . . . uh, I can’t really talk ‘bout it, Sam.  It’s kinda personal shit ‘bout her, and I ain’t supposed to tell anyone else without her okay.”  He shifted uncomfortably.

“Huh.”  I wondered what Jo would confide in Dean after only a few minutes’ acquaintance that she hadn’t told me after knowing each other for several years.  “Well, are you ready to get out of here?”

“Sure.  Where to next?”

“I think it’s time to head back.  But don’t worry—our day isn’t over just yet,” I added in response to his crestfallen expression.  “I _did_ promise you pie earlier, after all.”

The mention of pie elicited a pleased smile from the younger man, and he eagerly followed me back to the car after we waved goodbye to Jo and Ash.  He grimaced at the radio and fiddled with the controls until he found a classic rock station.  I sighed but remained silent—putting up with his mullet rock for a short while was a small price to pay to maintain his good mood.  Instead I rolled the windows down and grinned as he leaned his head out and closed his eyes, the breeze ruffling through his tawny hair.

Once my car was parked in its usual spot in the garage, I led Dean to the elevator.  He raised a brow when I hit the button for the lobby instead of our floor.  As we exited the elevator, he craned his head around to take in the spacious lobby, with its marble floors, brass and crystal fixtures, and high-end furnishings.

“Damn, feels like we’re in the Ritz-Carlton!  Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering what your apartment looks like,” he commented.  He then looked up at me curiously.  “But what’re we doing here, Sam?”

I smiled down at him.  “Well, the majority of this floor and the entire second floor are devoted to shops, all of which are owned by and cater to members of the community.  There’s a gym, salon, pharmacy, bookstore, café/bakery, convenience store, clothing stores, and more.”

“I take it we’re here for the café and bakery,” the omega said as I led him toward the double doors leading further into the floor.  He paused at the sight of the scanners and security guards stationed in front of the doors.  “What the hell’s up with this?”

“As I said, these shops cater to the community—this whole building is meant to be someplace where we don’t have to hide what we are.  The security is there to prevent the wrong people from entering.”

“But how can they tell?  It ain’t like they can just _ask_!”

“Well, the guards can usually recognize non-humans by scent or other senses, and for humans they either look for the collar or a special tattoo that err, free human members are required to get.  The scanners are more than metal detectors—they have scrying spells to look for similar things, just in case the guards miss something.”

“So what happens if an outsider tries to come through here?  And does this mean they’re not allowed in the apartments either?”

“Generally they’re told something like the shops are for residents only or require a membership and turned away.  And tenants can have non-members as guests in their apartments, but they’re responsible for making sure their guests remain in the dark about us,” I explained.  “Needless to say, most of us tend to be _very_ careful about who we let inside as a result!”

I nodded to the guards as we walked through the scanners and then through the doors.  Inside was a miniature version of a high-end mall, with shops lining the walls, benches and planters down the center of the main hallway, and an escalator leading up to the second floor.  Many of the shoppers passed for human, but others had dropped the façade and walked about in their natural state.  Dean stared wide-eyed at the number of people around him with visible claws, horns, scales, and other inhuman features.

“Did you want to stop at the café first or check out some of the other shops?” I asked.

He dragged his attention back to me.  “Pie first—gotta keep my priorities straight!  Then . . . could I look at the bookstore?”

“We can visit as many of the shops as you want, Dean.  The café is right over here.”

I led him inside and saw him relax at the homey interior.  Scattered about most of the floor were various types of seating, from wooden table sets to leather armchairs to canvas beanbag chairs.  Arranged among them were ottomans, end tables, bookcases, and magazine racks.  The far end of the shop consisted of a U-shaped set of display cases, in which were arrayed all kinds of baked goods and pastries.

Dean immediately made a beeline for the case of pies with a wide grin on his face.  “Oh man, these look—and smell— _awesome_!”

“They’re baked fresh every day!  Today we’ve got apple, cherry, blueberry, pecan, lemon meringue, and custard.  What would you prefer?” the werewolf behind the counter asked cheerfully.

Dean startled and stepped back at the sight of her yellow eyes, claws, and fangs.  “Whoa!  What big teeth you got there, Grandma!”

I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “Hi, Kate!  Please excuse Dean’s reaction.  I think the only other time he’s seen a shifted werewolf was at the Food Market.”

“Well, that bites!  Those assholes give the rest of us a bad name,” Kate said sympathetically.

“Kate runs this shop with her sister Tasha.  Everything here is exploitation-free—this place is an example of the business we want to see more of in the community,” I explained.  “And more importantly, their pies are almost as good as yours.”

“Almost?  Do we have competition, Sam?” she asked with a mock-hurt expression.

“Nah, I don’t really bake, ‘cept for pie.  I _love_ me some pie!”  Dean leaned forward and peered into the display case.  “Can I get a piece of apple and of pecan?  And a cup of coffee—black with two sugars?”

“Just a cappuccino for me.  I don’t have the luxury of his metabolism,” I said ruefully.

We claimed a couple of armchairs, and he was thrilled to discover they reclined.  “Dude, this place is pretty sweet!  And I don’t feel so outta place, at least compared to the rest of this joint.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged.  “Eh, it’s just that most of my life I’ve shopped at thrift stores and Walmart, not Neiman Marcus.  Places like this mall . . . I feel like I’m gonna end up in that fucking scene in _Pretty Woman_ with the snooty saleswoman.”

“This is real life, not Hollywood.  And this certainly isn’t Rodeo Drive!  So don’t worry about fitting in, okay?  You’ll be _fine_ ,” I told him.

Kate came by with our order, which amply distracted my companion.  I smiled at the almost pornographically happy noises he made as he devoured his slices of pie.  Once we finished our coffees, we visited a few of the other shops, where he picked up some books and a couple of t-shirts with the money he’d earned at the bar.  We then took the elevator back up to my apartment.

Dean went straight to his room with his purchases.  Figuring that I wouldn’t see him for a while, I first reset the spell on the apartment before grabbing a book from the library.  I went out onto the terrace, where I settled on a lounge chair near the pool with a cold beer. 

To my surprise, the other man emerged a few minutes later, carrying his guitar and amp.  “D’ya mind if I practice out here for a while?  I don’t wanna be cooped up inside.”

“Of course not, Dean.  I’d love to hear you play!”

He nodded and plugged in the amp, then sat down at the patio table.  After taking a few minutes to set up, he began to slowly pick out notes to a song, and I soon recognized _House of the Rising Sun_.  My nostrils flared as his rich scent drifted over, and I realized he must’ve washed the blockers off.  His expression was intent, but the mood coming off of him was . . . pensive.

I waited until he finished the song before asking, “How are you doing?  We heard some pretty heavy shit earlier today, with what Crowley said about your family and then earlier at the clinic.”

He glanced up at me.  “I’m fine, man.  Don’t worry about me.”

“Dude, I _know_ you’re not ‘fine,’ so quit with the stoic bullshit!  I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.” 

He hunched his shoulders and avoided my gaze for a while, but eventually he raised his eyes to meet mine.  “Okay, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter ends a bit abruptly. The upcoming conversation was too long and needed to be split off into its own chapter. For those who've been asking, you'll hopefully get to see more into Dean's thoughts in the next chapter.
> 
> No lengthy author's note today. Hosting Easter dinner for my husband's family right after a chemo treatment was not exactly the wisest decision. My sister-in-law and niece helped out a lot, but I'm still wiped. Next week's update will go up Monday afternoon or evening as usual. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Dean put the guitar down, walked over, and sat next to me.  He was quiet for a moment before starting to speak.  “Probably ain’t much of a surprise that what the doc told us has been bugging me.  I—I dunno what to do, Sam.  I _don’t_ wanna die, but I . . . I dunno if I can go through with . . . with what she said to survive this fucking heat.”

I put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.  “I can’t say I’m not concerned either.  But we’ve got nearly two months to explore our options.  You _can’t_ be the first omega who couldn’t turn to an alpha to get through their heat.  So there’s _got_ to be information out there about other ways to deal with it, and we just need to find it.

“Plus we don’t know yet how far our relationship will progress in that time.  Maybe you _will_ be ready by then—who knows?  Regardless of what ends up happening, I’m going to be with you the whole way, and we’ll figure this out _together_.”

“I wish I had your optimism, man.  But everything else in my fucking life has always turned to shit, so why should I expect this to be any different?”  He dropped his head.  “I dunno, maybe I’m _meant_ to go down like this—taken out by my own goddamn useless omega body.  It ain’t like anyone ‘sides Bobby’s gonna miss me, and I know even _he’s_ been expecting that kinda phone call ‘bout me for years.”

“ _Don’t_ say that!”  I grabbed his chin and forced him to meet my eyes.  “ _I_ would miss you!  I may’ve only known you for a few weeks, but you mean a whole _hell_ of a lot to me!  And I think you underestimate how many other people care about you too.  Not that it’ll matter, because we’re _not_ going to let you die!”

“That’s easy for _you_ to say!  But if it comes down to a choice between being forced or dying . . . I dunno which is worse.  I—I don’t think I can go through . . . _that_ again.”  He closed his eyes.

My breath caught at the implication.  “Oh, Dean . . .  If it _does_ come down to something like that, I promise to respect whatever choice you make.  But . . . do you think it would help to talk to me about what happened to you before?”

Dean pulled away abruptly and stood.  “No fucking way!  I went through that shit once before, and I’m _done_!  Everyone I talked to back then, even the damn shrinks, treated me _different_ once they heard the whole sob story—like I was something _broken_ , something only worth _pitying_.  D’ya have _any_ idea how long it took to get _Bobby_ to stop acting like I was made outta glass?  I _ain’t_ dealing with that crap again, not from _you_!”

“Listen, I obviously don’t know exactly what you went through.  But I _can_ tell you that the _last_ thing I would ever call you is _weak_.  You’re easily one of the _strongest_ men I’ve ever met.  I can’t think of many people who could’ve survived what you did—at least from what I can guess of your past— _and_ who can live through what you’re dealing with now and come out of it still being able to enjoy life and care about other people like you do.  When you _do_ feel ready to tell me your history, I’m pretty sure _pity_ is _not_ going to be my reaction,” I said.

“Yeah, whatever.  Let’s see if you still feel the same fucking way when you _do_ know.”  He sighed and sat back down.  “I know you mean well, Sam.  But I . . . I ain’t ready to talk ‘bout that shit yet, okay?”

“Of course, man!  I wasn’t trying to pressure you.”  I hesitated for a moment, looking at the omega carefully.  “I have to ask this though, given the . . . nature of our relationship.  Have you . . . have you _ever_ had an enjoyable sexual experience?”

“Besides with you?”  Dean smiled mirthlessly.  “The other guys certainly fucking _enjoyed_ themselves, but how I felt wasn’t exactly something any of ‘em cared ‘bout.”

I felt nauseous as his pain and disgust at the memories washed over me.  Given what I was, the concept of sexual assault in general was almost blasphemous.  Knowing that it had happened, and apparently more than once, to someone I cared about made it _far_ worse. 

I caught hold of his hands.  “But you _do_ enjoy what we do together right?  And this _is_ something you _want_ to do?  I told you before when we first became intimate that you didn’t _have_ to do anything with me, despite why I initially bought you.  So if this has been something you’ve felt . . . obligated or coerced into—”

“ _No!_ ”  He squeezed my hands tightly.  “I promise, Sammy—you haven’t forced me into anything!  I _like_ it when you kiss me and touch me.  I—I’ve been fucked before, but I ain’t ever had anyone . . . try to—to _make love_ to me until you.  No one else has ever _cared_ the way you do, and that . . . that means _everything_ to me.  I know what we got ain’t exactly normal, and we got plenty of fucking problems of our own to work out.  But if I’m ever able to let go of my shitty past, I . . . I want my first _good_ time to be with you.”

“I’m so glad to hear that!  It’s _extremely_ important to me that you understand you don’t have to do _anything_ you don’t want, either in or out of the bedroom.  And I want you to know that I _do_ care a lot about you, Dean.  I’ve had more partners than I can count—most of them just casual flings and a few who were friends.  I’ve never wanted _more_ . . . until now.  So your happiness means more to me than _anything_.”  I pulled him into a hug.

He returned my embrace and then sat back, his face pink.  “Thanks, Sam.  But enough with the chick-flick moment, okay?  Or else they’re gonna revoke my man card!”

I rolled my eyes.  “Talking about your feelings or wanting to cuddle doesn’t make you any less manly, you dork!”

“Shuddup!”  His cheeks flushed further, and I couldn’t resist planting a kiss on his full lips.  He kissed back and then rested his head against my shoulder.  “Alright, alright, I get it!  Though I don’t get why you’re so worried, man.  Don’t your freaky incubus powers let you know how I’m feeling?  So you should know already that I dig all this shit with you.”

“It does, but my empathic ability isn’t foolproof.  It _is_ possible for someone to hide their emotions if they know what they’re doing,” I replied.  “So I don’t want to assume that I know exactly how you feel.”

“Huh!  Well, like I told you when we first started this—I promise I’ll tell you if something we try to do wigs me out, okay?”  He stood and added, “I guess I should go back to practicing now.”

I caught hold of one of his hands.  “I’ve got a better idea.  I don’t want you to start stewing in your own thoughts and end up playing a bunch of mopey songs.  So why don’t we change and go for a swim instead?  We can order pizza or something afterward.”

“You trying to call _me_ emo?  I’ve heard the crap _you_ think is music!”  His mock-scowl turned into a smirk.  “I know what’s really going on—you just wanna ogle me in my swimsuit again!”

“Guilty as charged!  So don’t keep me waiting!”  I gave him a shove in the direction of the door.

He laughed and flipped me off, then went inside.  I followed him in and headed to my room to change into my trunks.  I didn’t expect to be in the pool for too long since it was already approaching dinner time, so I only grabbed a beach ball and a couple of sodas.  There was no sign yet of the other man when I returned to the terrace, so I dove into the pool and began swimming laps.

I’d just surfaced after my third lap when I saw Dean sauntering over, dressed once again in the same snug swim shorts.  This time I knew what to expect, and yet my breath still caught as the late afternoon sun gleamed off his dark gold hair and gilded the contours of his lithe muscles.  He was easily the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, even after nearly two hundred years of experience.  It wasn’t simply the symmetry of his face or the grace of his form that made him so stunning—it was also the humor, intelligence, and spirit infusing his features.  I wondered once again at my luck in finding him, and how anyone could possibly want to hurt him.

He dropped down to sit on the edge of the pool near where I was treading water, and his enticing aroma wafted over me.  “Dude, you’re staring all googly-eyed at me again.  I know I’m adorable and shit, but this is embarrassing!” he teased.

I growled, grabbed his ankles, and yanked.  He yelped as he fell into the pool and emerged with murder in his eyes.  I took off with the younger man in hot pursuit, until he managed to tackle me and dunked me thoroughly.  We continued to horse around for another hour or so before stretching out on a couple of lounge chairs.

I relaxed for several minutes and admired the lines of Dean’s broad back, bowed legs, and of course that rounded ass as he lay drowsing on his stomach.  A thought then occurred to me, but I hesitated to bring it up, not wanting to darken either of our moods.

Finally I grimaced and sat up.  “Hey, Dean?  Sorry to bug you, but . . . there’s something else I need to ask you.”

He lifted his head and blinked big, sleepy green eyes at me.  “Huh?  What’s up?”

“Do you . . . do you _really_ hate it here?  I know what you said about me earlier, but I’m concerned about what you told Jo back at the bar.”

He rolled over and sat up to face me.  “I _did_ mean what I said to you, Sam—I _do_ like being with you.  What I hate though is being _trapped_ here all the time.  Your apartment may seem pretty big by most standards, but it feels really fucking small when you’re _stuck_ inside it for weeks on end!  Even being out here doesn’t help much after a while.”

“I’m sorry about that—I should’ve realized sooner.  I’ll try to take you out on a more frequent basis from now on.  If you want to go downstairs to the shops or out to Harvelle’s or somewhere else, just tell me.  I want to do whatever it takes to make you happy,” I said contritely.

“I know you’re trying to do your best, dude.  And I honestly didn’t think you’d let me out soon.  With all the shit your community is worried ‘bout happening with someone like me, I figured it’d be _weeks_ longer before you’d feel comfortable with taking me off the leash.”

“And it’s _my_ fault you feel that way too.  When I first told Lenore about you, she said that I’d have to decide which was more important to me—the community’s safety or your happiness,” I admitted guiltily.  “I’m obviously _not_ doing something right if you don’t know that _you_ come first as far as I’m concerned, not them.  I’ll simply have to do better going forward.”

“Lenore is a _very_ smart lady then!  And at least you’re trying, which is more than I can say ‘bout my— ‘bout most of the people I’ve known.”  He smiled at me gently, and I marveled anew at the size of his heart.  “Talking ‘bout the community did remind me ‘bout something though.  When we were out earlier, I saw a few other people with collars like mine, but the colors were different.  Does that mean something?”

I nodded.  “Yeah, the collars are color-coded to designate the wearer’s worth to their uh, owner and what level of access is permitted to others.  A gold collar like yours is the highest level and is reserved for the most valued companions.  It means that you are _completely_ off-limits to anything intrusive, like sex or feeding, and anyone else needs permission before touching you in any other way.  For example, if someone gets angry, they can’t hit you unless I allow it—which of course would _never_ happen.  Anyone who breaks that rule can be brought up on charges in our equivalent of civil court.

“The next level down, silver, signifies that someone can feed on or have sex with the wearer with the owner’s permission, but their actions can’t damage or distress the wearer.  Each level lower allows progressively more to be done to the person with the collar.  A black collar, which is the very lowest, pretty much means the owner doesn’t give a damn if their property is maimed or even killed.  Those poor bastards are bought dirt-cheap and considered expendable, not much better than the ones who are slaughtered immediately for food,” I finished with a disgusted sneer.

“Sonofabitch!”  Dean looked shaken and put a hand up to his collar.  “Guess I _did_ get lucky, all things fucking considered!  Makes you wonder what kinda sick douchebags came up with a system like that!”

“The same sort that manage the human trafficking and run businesses like the Food Market, and they’re distressingly well-organized.  For example, the Market has employees on-site that will butcher their customers’ ‘purchases’ for them if they so wish.  And since many creatures only need a portion of the human body—just the heart or blood or pituitary or whatever—the Market then sells the rest either directly to other customers or to restaurants and other shops catering to the community,” I continued grimly.  “This is a very well-oiled system in place here, and it makes it very hard for people like us to get rid of it.”

His face had gone even paler.  “Fuck, well there goes my appetite!  It’s still so hard to believe that all this shit is going on right under the noses of the rest of the city, and none of ‘em knows anything ‘bout it.”

“Like I said when I first told you about the community, we’ve been doing this for a long time and have gotten _very_ good at keeping it a secret.  And sadly, this system actually _does_ keep the body count down.  If all these beings were hunting separately, they’d be killing more people just to get the particular parts they need.  Whereas the Market’s highly efficient use of each body means more can be fed from each death, as cold as that sounds.  So part of _our_ problem is proving that our methods can work just as well without killing,” I said.

“Still pretty fucked up though!  Wish there was something I could do to help.”  He stood and stretched.  “And on that note, I’m heading back inside.”

He packed up his guitar and carried everything back into the apartment.  I followed him in shortly after and ordered a large pizza with pepperoni, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, green peppers, and onions before going to my room to shower and change.  Fortunately by the time the pizza arrived, his appetite had returned, and he happily devoured several slices.  After dinner we played a couple rounds of _Carcassonne_ , and then he inflicted the latest _Underworld_ movie on me from Netflix.

By the time Dean came to bed, his mood had quieted.  He was clad only in a pair of boxer-briefs, not his usual t-shirt and sleep pants.  Nevertheless, I expected he just wanted to sleep tonight, given his sober demeanor.  To my surprise though, he reached for my boxers and started to slip a hand under the waistband as soon as he lay down beside me.

I immediately caught his wrist and pulled up his hand with a frown.  There was no trace of desire coming off him, only a roiling mess of fear, agitation, and determination.  He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and his face was pale and set when I grasped his chin and turned his face up to study his expression.

“Dean, what are you doing?” I asked softly.  “You don’t want this.”

“Yeah, well, my goddamn hormones are a ticking _bomb_ , and I ain’t got the time to pussyfoot around with this shit forever,” he retorted.  “I need to fucking man up and get _over_ my damn issues!”

“That’s _not_ how this works, and you know it.  I told you before that we weren’t going to rush into anything, and I still mean it.  You can’t just _force_ yourself to be better, not after the kind of trauma you suffered, and you’re just going to make yourself _worse_ if you try,” I said.

A blush rose up in his cheeks.  “It ain’t _just_ ‘bout my heat, Sam.  You’re gonna get hungry again soon.  You said your last feeding would tide you over for another week or two, and it’s already been a week.  I . . . I _don’t_ want you going out and screwing anyone else this time.  So I gotta—”

I laid a finger over his lips.  “Stop.  I’m flattered that you want to help me, but this _isn’t_ what I want.  There’s no need to rush—with even the little bit of energy that I’ve been taking from you each time we make out, it’s probably going to be a couple more weeks before I _really_ need to feed.  Forcing yourself won’t work anyway—you’re not turned on _at all_ right now, so I wouldn’t get anything from it if I let you continue.”

“Shouldn’t this be _my_ fucking decision if I’m willing to do more?”  He scowled up at me.

“This is _our_ decision, and I’m _not_ going to go along with something that will harm you!  Listen, you need to _trust_ me on this—sex _is_ my area of expertise, after all,” I replied.  “I understand your frustrations, but this isn’t something we can simply bull through.  Taking our time _is_ for the best.”

“Great, when did I become the goddamn tortoise?” he grumbled, and then sighed.  “ _Fine_ , we’ll keep doing things your way.  But . . . I don’t wanna go to sleep just yet.  I need to stop thinking ‘bout all this crap.”

“I think we can manage that,” I said, smiling down at him.  “Kiss me.”

Dean reached up and tugged my head down until he could lock lips with mine.  He was becoming quite skilled at this despite the short time since we first started being intimate, and we were soon moaning and exchanging deep kisses.  I felt his mood lighten and his desire spark even before the aphrodisiac in my saliva took effect. 

My hands caressed his chest as my lips made their way down his neck.  He in turn ran his fingers up my torso to toy with the hair on my pectoral muscles.  I decided to push the envelope a bit and let my mouth migrate down past his clavicle, while my hands gently stroked down his hips and along the tops of his thighs.  He gasped as I wrapped my lips around one of his pink nipples and licked and sucked at the sensitive peak, and he arched his back and dug his hands into my hair when I switched to the other.  I alternated between the tender nubs for several minutes, enjoying the appreciative sounds he made.  My hands meanwhile massaged up the inside of his thighs but didn’t _quite_ reach his groin.

I eventually lifted my head and captured his lips again.  The omega tugged on my hair with one hand and used the other to shove his briefs down his legs.  As he began to stroke himself, I pulled him against my chest and wrapped my arms around him, pinching at his nipples and nipping at the base of his neck.  He leaned his head back against my shoulder and sprawled his legs open, his hand moving furiously along his cock.

“Yeah Sammy, _ahh_ , keep doing that!” he breathed, his face flushed and his eyes glazed.

Encouraged by his reaction, I pulled and flicked at his nipples and sucked at his neck even harder, all the while skimming off the heady energy of his arousal.  He keened in pleasure at the added stimulation and soon cried out, stiffening as he spurted all over his fingers.  I raised his hand up and slowly swabbed his fingers clean with my tongue, relishing the salty taste.

“Wh—what about you?” Dean asked huskily, glancing down at the erection noticeably tenting my boxers.

“I’ll go into the bathroom and take care of it in a couple of minutes.  You just relax,” I replied.

He ducked his head shyly.  “You don’t hafta leave.  I think . . . I—I’d like to watch.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked up and nodded, and I only read curiosity, desire, and trust in his face.  I pushed my boxers halfway down my thighs and wrapped my hands around my shaft.  His eyes widened at the sight—I was hardly _small_ by anyone’s definition—but he gave off no signs of fear or distress.  With his heavy-lidded gaze avidly following my movements, it took only a few strokes before I came with a loud groan.  I got up, went into the bathroom to clean up, and returned with a damp washcloth so he could do the same. 

“How are you feeling, Dean?”  I studied his expression as I slid under the covers beside him.

He grinned at me.  “I’m feeling awesome!  And _dude_ —I think that down there counts as _more_ than fucking proportional!  Dontcha need a permit to pack that much heat?”

“Haven’t had any complaints yet!”  I put my arms back around him and buried my nose in his soft hair.  “Mmm!  Sometimes I almost think I could get off just from your smell, man.”

He laughed.  “Guess there’s worse things you could be perving on!  Y’know, if it weren’t for this heat bullshit, I . . . I’d be happy just like this.  Sex ain’t ever brought me anything good.  Being _cared_ ‘bout like this means way more than _that_ , and what we’re doing is awesome enough.”

“Don’t write sex off just yet!  What you must’ve gone through . . . I can understand why you’d be turned off from the whole idea.  But like you said earlier, you’ve never had the opportunity to truly make love before.  I want to show you the difference, and I believe in time you’ll appreciate how amazing it is,” I told him tenderly.

“You gonna heal me with the magic powers of your giant cock, huh?  How many romance novels have you read, Sammy?”  He smirked at me impishly.

“Shuddup, jerk!  Is this the thanks I get for being nice to you?  Maybe next time I’ll just spank you!” I threatened.

“Promises, promises, bitch!”  The omega stuck his tongue out at me.  “Try that, and I’ll withhold cooking from you.  See how you like living on takeout again!”

“You are a mean, cruel man, Dean Winchester!  You’re lucky you’re irresistible!”  I kissed him and smiled as he settled his head on my shoulder with a yawn and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No big reveals about Dean's past yet, but this chapter hopefully gives some insights into how he's feeling. And more information about the dark underside of the supernatural community in this city. Not to mention more smut! I want to thank everyone for being so patient with what's obviously turned out to be a very slooooow burn.
> 
> The mention of assault being blasphemous to Sam as an incubus was inspired by the Kushiel series by Jacqueline Carey. Those books are set in an Earth-like world where angels once freely mingled with and had relations with humans. The country where their descendants live, Terre d'Ange (i.e. France), has a core tenet of "Love as thou wilt"--love of all kinds is more important than anything, and rape is not just a crime but also heresy. It's a very good series of books that I highly recommend. I felt that since incubi and succubi live not just on sexual energy but specifically on their partner's enjoyment of the act, they would have similar beliefs. Sexual freedom and pleasure is paramount, and any kind of coercion is anathema. Even Sam's purchase of Dean as a sex slave/food source skirts the edge of that taboo, which is one of the reasons (though not the only one) why Sam's been so careful not to force Dean into anything.
> 
> Still getting over the fatigue from the last treatment, but I'm back home and did manage to get some writing done last week. I've been a bit concerned lately because when I first started posting this story, I had ~11 chapters already written, which was a very comfortable buffer--more than enough, I thought, to let me keep ahead on this story and also start working on Part 5 of my The Monster That You Know series. However, thanks to the chemo sapping so much of my brain power and energy, that buffer has dwindled down to 2 chapters, and I haven't been able to work on the other story at all. I know everyone will understand if I fall behind and the updates have to slow down, but I still want to try to keep ahead to be able to maintain my regular posting schedule (and start working on the story for my other series too). So I hope this week will be productive, but we'll have to see how it goes. 
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter will be posted next Monday afternoon or evening as usual. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	15. Chapter 15

My phone rang not long after lunch several days later, and I recognized Ruby’s extension.  “Sam?  The front desk just called.  There’s someone here to see you.  It—it’s _Alastair_ from the Council.  What should I tell them?”

I sighed and closed the document I was reviewing.  “Don’t worry, Ruby—I was expecting him to show up sooner or later.  Before you call the front desk back, I need you to call Crowley first.  Please ask him to go to my apartment immediately with some muscle and not let anyone else in besides myself.  Then you can let Reception know to send Alastair to my office.”

“Alright, I can do that.”  Her voice sounded firmer.  “But why is _he_ coming to see you?  Is something wrong?”

“There’s no time now, but I’ll explain everything after he leaves.  Oh, and please reschedule my afternoon appointments to another day.  I don’t know how long he’ll be here, and I’ll probably need to go home afterward,” I replied.

After hanging up, I closed the open programs on my computer except for the camera feed from my apartment and put the papers on my desk away except for one folder.  I set up both my phone and a small handheld recorder to take down the upcoming conversation.  The recorder was stashed in a drawer, which was left slightly open.  I then settled in to wait for my unwanted visitor.

The phone rang again a few minutes later.  “Mr. Campbell, Alastair from the Security Commission is here.”

“Please send him in, Ruby, and then make sure we aren’t disturbed.  Thank you.”  I hit the Record button on both devices and then sat back.

As I settled in my chair, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced at my computer screen.  In the camera feed, Dean moved to the front door and opened it.  Crowley walked in, followed by two rather large men, and I could see two more standing outside the door.  Crowley spoke—I had the sound muted so I couldn’t hear his dialogue—and Dean’s jaw set.  He waved the two guards to seats in the living room, while Crowley followed him towards the kitchen.  I turned my attention away, satisfied that Dean was safe for the moment.

The man who walked into my office moments later was tall, nearly as tall as I, and almost cadaverously thin, with pale skin and graying brown hair and beard.  He was dressed simply in slacks and a button-down shirt, and my nostrils flared at the acrid scent of another alpha.  He smiled in what I suppose he meant to be a benign manner and extended a hand as he approached my desk.

“Samuel Campbell.  I hear you’ve been a resident of our fine community for quite some time, but I don’t believe we’ve had the _pleasure_ of meeting before now,” Alastair said affably.

I ignored the hand and did not rise from my seat.  “There’s no pleasure involved.  What do you want, Alastair?  My time is valuable, so I’d prefer if you didn’t waste it.”

“Straight to the point, are we?  I like that.”  He sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of my desk.  “I understand you went to the Food Market a few weeks ago and picked yourself up a _nice_ piece of tail—a pretty little omega by the name of Dean Winchester.”

“He’s neither little nor a piece of tail.  Is there a purpose to telling me what I already know?” I interjected shortly.  I wasn’t going to give him anything to work with.

“You know, most people are _afraid_ when I pay them a visit.  This is really _quite_ refreshing!”  He gave me another creepy smile.  “As I’m _sure_ you’re aware, the Security Commission performs follow-up background checks on any items purchased at the Market intended for long-term . . . _use_ , shall we say?  Unfortunately, we tend to have a bit of a backlog, so we didn’t get to _your_ acquisition until just recently.

“I’m afraid we discovered that there’s a serious _complication_ with your property.  It appears that its foster father, one Robert Singer, is a well-known hunter.”  The demon paused and looked me over.  “You don’t seem surprised, Sam.”

“That’s _Mr. Campbell_ to you.  And you’re still not telling me anything I don’t know.”

“Ah.  Your friend the vampire police detective, I presume?”

“He’s one possibility.  If you know me as well as you pretend to claim, you’d realize there are plenty of others,” I replied.  “I’m not going to subject any of them to your scrutiny.”

He shrugged.  “Well, moving on then.  This is obviously a _significant_ potential breach in our community’s security.  So it is imperative that we find out _exactly_ what little Deano knows, and more importantly if the hunter knows anything about _us_ as a result.”

I smiled blandly.  “I can assuage your fears then, because the answer is ‘Nothing.’  Dean was completely unaware of the supernatural in general or of the community before being brought to the Market.  Nor did he have any prior knowledge of Mr. Singer’s true profession.  He found out about it at the same time I did.”

“We can’t simply take its _word_ for—”

“No, but you _have_ to take mine,” I interrupted.  “As _you_ should be aware, as an incubus I can read emotions.  So I can verify that Dean was truly surprised when I first explained to him about the community _and_ when we both learned about his foster father.  Trust me, he couldn’t have faked that level of astonishment.

“I can also attest that Singer hasn’t learned anything from Dean about the community’s existence or whereabouts.  I’ve monitored all communication Dean’s had with the man, and nothing compromising was ever discussed.  In fact, I have signed statements from Dean swearing to these facts and from myself confirming that he’s telling the truth.”  I pushed the folder toward him.

“You let your pet _talk_ to someone from its former life, even if you didn’t know he was a hunter at the time?” Alastair demanded irately as he picked it up.

I raised my eyebrows at his outburst.  “Of course.  As I said, we didn’t know Singer was a hunter at the time.  I had my finger over the End button during each conversation, and Dean was well aware of the consequences should he try to say anything compromising.”

“I assume these _conversations_ ceased once you discovered the truth.”

“You should know what happens when you _assume_.  And you would in fact be incorrect.”  I smirked at his surprise.  “I saw no need to punish Dean for something that wasn’t his fault.  And again, he knows what will happen if he says anything he shouldn’t.”

He glared.  “That was a _very_ poor decision.  I think it’s best if I take this omega into custody and _question_ it myself.  We need to be _sure_ it’s telling the truth, after all.”

“No.”

The demon now looked incredulous.  “Excuse me—there _must_ be something wrong with my hearing.  Did you tell me _No_?”

“That is _exactly_ what I said.  Dean is _my_ property, and I refuse to give permission for you to take him.  You don’t have grounds to seize him against my wishes, as you have _no_ proof of wrongdoing on either of our parts.  And if you don’t want the goons you sent to unlawfully invade _my_ apartment to steal _my_ human to end up as hellhound kibble, you’ll call them off _now_!” 

I tapped the screen as I spoke, which now showed two men trussed up on the floor of the foyer and some of Crowley’s guards straightening their clothing.  From the captives’ somewhat squashed positioning, I surmised that Crowley had brought Juliet with him, and she was now sitting on them.

“That’s right, I called in your boss for a little assistance—your _real_ boss,” I said smugly.  “Unlike a bottom-feeder like you, I actually _have_ friends, and Crowley also likes Dean a _hell_ of a lot more than you.  So unless you want to land in even more trouble than the complaint I’m going to file after this meeting will cause, you’ll call your dogs to heel and then _leave_.”

“You think you have all the answers, Sammy?  You expect me to _believe_ that this piece of human trash _happens_ to live with a hunter for years and then _happens_ to get captured and brought here, and yet it knows _nothing_ and this is just some big coincidence?  How big of a fool do you take me for?” he retorted with a sneer.  “I think it’s _far_ more likely that your little catamite knows _exactly_ what’s going on and is working in conjunction with its hunter buddies to bring us down!”

I laughed at his ludicrous suggestion.  “You should stop thinking before you hurt yourself, Alastair.  You have absolutely _no_ proof to support your delusional conjecture, and you know it.  _I_ think you’re too pathetic to keep an omega on your own, so you’re trying to poach _mine_.  And _I_ think you’re a big enough fool to come into the office of a lawyer of _my_ experience somehow expecting that I don’t know _exactly_ how the laws of the community apply here.”

I rose and bared my fangs at him, my eyes flaring red.  “You will leave my office _now_ and not waste my time again.  And you will refrain from harassing myself, Dean, or anyone associated with us—including Robert Singer—without sufficient justification.  If I discover you’ve attempted to harm any of them, I will _end_ you.”

He stood angrily.  “You’re making a _big_ mistake here, boy!  I think it’s a _very_ foolish choice to make me angry!”

“You don’t scare me.  And I _know_ you don’t want to face _my_ wrath.  Now _get out_!”  I pointed at the door.  “Oh, and if you want someone to _question_ , start with the morons at the Food Market.  It’s _their_ supposedly thorough background check that missed Singer’s true identity in the first place, after all.  Who knows how many other security risks they’ve let slip by through greed or incompetence?”

Alastair stalked out of the office without another word.  I slumped back in my chair for a moment before turning off the recordings.  I emailed the one on my phone to my work and home accounts, shut down my computer, and packed some documents in my briefcase.  As I left my office, I stopped by Ruby’s desk.

“Is everything alright, Sam?” she asked immediately.

“I think so, but I need to check on Dean.  If anyone asks, tell them I’m working from home for the rest of the day.  If something comes up that can’t wait until tomorrow, call my cell,” I told her.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Not right now—I need you to cover things here.  But you can stop by my place after you’re done for the day if you want.  I’d like you to meet Dean, and I can explain what’s going on,” I replied.

“I’ll come over at six then.  You be careful though—Alastair looked _furious_ when he left!” she said in concern.

“I’ll be fine.  There’s nothing he can do to me, and he knows it.”  With that, I left.

I called Crowley once I was on the subway.  “Hey, man!  Are you still at my place?  How’s everything there?”

“Hullo, Moose.  Yes, I’m still here.  Alastair called one of his minions’ phones just a little while ago, and after I exchanged a few pithy words with him, he ordered his lackeys to leave,” he answered.  “He was gnashing his teeth when he hung up, but he doesn’t have the bollocks to do anything else yet.  I sent my men away, but Juliet and I are keeping Squirrel company until you arrive.  Want to talk to him?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”  I waited for Dean to come on and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.  Looks like Alastair only sent two thugs, and Crowley’s guys were able to overpower ‘em pretty easily.  How ‘bout you?”  His voice sounded steady, but I wanted to see his face and look into his eyes to make sure he wasn’t upset.

“No problems here.  He came and blustered, but he couldn’t do anything.  I’ll tell you the rest when I get home.”  I hung up and leaned back in my seat for the remainder of the ride home.

I grinned when I walked into the apartment.  Dean was on the floor against the sofa, laughing and trying to fend off Juliet, who was now visible and licking his face enthusiastically.  She barked when she noticed me and bounded over to the door, where she proceeded to knock me down and happily slobber all over my face.

“Argh!  Juliet, _down_!  Come on, you silly mutt!”  I scolded as I vainly attempted to push her off.

Crowley watched and snickered for a moment before calling, “Come to Daddy, Juliet!”

The hellhound gave me one last swipe before going to her master.  I rose and went to the kitchen to clean myself off.  Dean was already there, wiping his freshly washed face with a paper towel.

“Do you know how expensive it is to clean dog drool off of a suit like this?  I should send you the damn bill!” I complained while dabbing at the front of my jacket.

“Cry me a river, Big Bird,” Crowley replied with a smirk.  “You know you adore her!”

“Well, I’m certainly glad she was here today, drool and all.  And I can't express how grateful I am that you and your men came when I asked,” I said while removing the stained jacket and laying it across a kitchen stool.  “If you hadn't—”

“Think nothing of it!  What are friends for, after all?  My only regret is not seeing Alastair's face when you told him to bugger off.”  Crowley glanced down at his watch.  “I unfortunately have to return to work.  I doubt Alastair will try anything else today, but I’ll have my people keep a discreet eye on your apartment for the next few days as a precaution.”

“I appreciate that, man.  I'm going to file a complaint with the Council for the bullshit he tried to pull here.  I assume you won't have an issue giving a corroborating statement?”

“Another opportunity to make him look like a bloody fool?  Count me in!  Send me the paperwork, and I’ll fill it out right away.”  He snapped a leash onto Juliet's collar.  “Tah now!”

Once he and his dog had left, I turned to the omega and pulled him into my arms.  “I’m _so_ glad you’re safe!  Are you sure you’re fine?”

He reached up and kissed me reassuringly.  “Yeah, Sam, I’m okay.  Those asshats never even came close to me.  The most frustrating thing ‘bout the encounter was not being able to do shit to defend myself.  I could’ve shown those douchebags that I ain’t an easy target if it wasn’t for that damn spell!”

I peered into his face to assess his mood.  Other than the brief spike of irritation at the mention of the containment spell, he seemed barely agitated.  I, on the other hand . . .

“I’m sorry, Dean!  I promised to keep you safe, and yet you could’ve been hurt or—or taken today!  If Crowley hadn’t been here—”  I claimed his lips in a desperate kiss.

He threaded a hand through my hair and kissed back ardently.  “Shh, Sammy!  It ain’t your fault that this sonofabitch didn’t follow his own rules.  You obviously suspected he might pull shit like this, and that’s why Crowley _was_ here.  Now c’mon!”

Dean took my hand and led me into the bedroom.  Once inside, I fell on him and feverishly yanked off his shirts.  He tugged my tie loose and curled his arms behind my neck as I grabbed his hips and hoisted him up, seizing my mouth in another passionate kiss. 

Still kissing frantically, I carried him over to the bed and laid him down, then unfastened his jeans and pulled them and his boxer-briefs off in one swift motion.  I straightened and hurriedly began unbuttoning my shirt, admiring how his burnished hair and pale skin contrasted against the dark silk sheets as I did so.  I’d just freed my shirt from my waistband and unbuckled my belt when he sat up, grabbed the edges of the shirt, and hauled me back down. 

I fell against him with a surprised shout, whereupon he rolled us both over and kissed me fiercely.  He ran his hands up my ribs and over my chest until he could tweak my nipples.  I kissed back just as enthusiastically and slid my hands down his back to his buttocks, where I squeezed the firm muscles there.  We continued to caress and kiss each other, our hands and lips moving heatedly across the other’s skin.

Eventually I pushed him onto his back and bent my head to attack his chest.  He gasped appreciatively and arched his back as I sucked and nibbled on his nipples, his fingers digging tightly into my shoulders.  It wasn’t long before he snaked a hand down toward his groin.

I caught his hand and lifted my head.  “Wait!  Please let me . . .  I want—I _need_ to touch you!”

Green eyes bright with desire met mine.  “Okay, Sammy.”

I buried my face in the crook of his neck and breathed in his delectable scent before wrapping my fingers around his stiff cock for the first time.  The skin of his shaft was soft and silky as I started to stroke it, slowly at first but soon increasing in pace.  I ran my thumb up his frenulum and over his slit each time my hand slid over his glans.  Dean was soon groaning and cursing in pleasure, his hands scrambling over my back and his hips bucking rhythmically under my ministrations.

I longed to rub my member against his or to swallow his length down, but I knew better than to push his limits too far too fast.  I instead settled for hastily shoving my pants and boxers down just enough to grasp my cock with my other hand and jerk it in time with his.  I drank in his passion while he keened and rutted into my hand, his face flushed and his pupils blown.  After a few more thrusts, he spilled over my fingers with a sharp cry, one hand fisting in my hair.  The sudden tug was enough to push me over the edge, and I shouted hoarsely and spurted onto his belly.

Once I caught my breath, I looked up into his face.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I—I didn't mean to push you—”

“You don't hafta apologize for anything, dude.  I wouldn't have agreed if I thought I couldn't handle it.  I knew a little snu-snu would help you chill out, and I needed the distraction too.”  His lips curled up in an amused smile.  “Though I don't think this is what Sparkle meant when he recommended moisturizing my skin more!”

I snorted in laughter while grabbing his discarded briefs and using them to clean us up.  I’d taken Dean down to the second-floor salon for a haircut a couple of days ago, and the zanna serving as his stylist immediately began raving about his appearance.  Though Sparkle was unsuccessful in getting Dean to agree to a facial or manicure, he did insist that I purchase several hair and skin care products for the omega.  And though Dean outwardly grumbled about the frivolity, I was pretty sure he'd surreptitiously started to use them.

I looked mournfully at my shirt and slacks after removing them.  “I don’t know what I’m going to say to the dry cleaner when I take this suit in!”

“If they’re part of the community, they’ve seen worse stains than drool and spunk,” he pointed out while I got back in bed.  “I think you’ll survive the experience.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” I commented as I took him into my arms.  “I don't think I’d be this calm after what happened if I were in your shoes.”

He shrugged before resting his head against my shoulder.  “Ain’t the first time I’ve had bastards come after me.  Scent blockers ain’t always foolproof unless you can afford the high-quality shit, which I couldn’t before now.  Even when people didn’t know I was a fucking omega, my looks or my smart mouth were enough to get me into trouble plenty of times.  Only difference this time was that I couldn’t fight my way outta it myself.”

“Sorry about that, but it’s not a part of the spell that I can modify.  I doubt Alastair will send anyone here again though—he knows we’re going to tighten up security, and he can’t risk getting caught a second time.  Especially after the amount of flack he’ll be dealing with once I file my complaint,” I said somewhat smugly.

“You really don’t like this douchebag, do you?”

“I’ve never met him personally before today, but I’ve heard plenty about him.  Not only does he enforce the very aspects of the community that we need to stop, but he also enjoys his work _far_ too much.  He takes any excuse he can to ‘question’ those who can’t fight back, and he doesn’t care if they survive the experience,” I replied disgustedly.  “Which is why I’m _never_ letting him near you!”

“No argument here, Sam—I’m good with keeping this asshole away from _both_ of us.  I just hate being so fucking helpless!  I ain’t felt like this since my— in a _long_ goddamn time,” he growled.

“I get it, man.  We’ll get you free of the collar eventually.  Just be patient.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled and then yawned.  “I’m gonna take a nap.  You gotta work?”

“Yeah, but I’ll stay here with you.  Go to sleep, Dean.”  I pressed my lips to his temple.

“’Kay.”  He sighed and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we've met Alastair, who is the embodiment of the worst aspects of the supernatural community, at least in Sam's opinion. Alastair ranked up there with Azazel and S5 Lucifer as one of the most creepy, menacing villains IMO, so I hope my version did the character justice. Alastair's conspiracy theory was inspired by a comment someone left on Chapter 10, so a shout-out to FuzzyPagan for the idea! Sam put up a strong front, but we'll have to see if this is the last we've seen of Alastair . . .
> 
> This Friday is my fifth chemo treatment, so the next update will be posted Sunday evening before I go to my parents' house. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	16. Chapter 16

I waited until he was fast asleep before retrieving my laptop and briefcase.  With my papers spread out on one side of the bed and Dean curled up on the other, I worked for a few hours on a couple of cases.  Once I’d finished dealing with the necessary paperwork for the next day, I packed it all back in my briefcase.  I then wrote up my complaint against Alastair and sent Crowley the witness portion of the form.

Next I turned my attention to further research into alternative ways to deal with Dean’s upcoming heat.  The results I’d found so far were disheartening.  I’d uncovered quite a number of recorded cases over the past few days of omegas who didn’t have access to an alpha during a heat for some reason.  In each of those instances, the doctor’s solution had been to bring in other alphas to “service” the patient, often without gaining their consent.  Disgusted with this country’s backwards views, I was now trying to expand my search to places which treated omegas as more than sexual accessories.

After a while, I closed my laptop and gently shook Dean’s shoulder.  “Hey, wake up!  I forgot to mention earlier that Ruby’s coming over at six to meet you and find out what’s going on after Alastair’s little visit.”

He blinked up at me groggily.  “Huh?  Wha—what time is it now?”

“It’s a little after five-thirty.”

“Shit!  Why did you let me sleep so long?  I ain’t gonna have time to make anything before she gets here, dude!”  He sat up and rubbed at his face.

“Don’t worry about dinner tonight—I’m going to take you out after Ruby leaves.  So just put together some hors d’oeuvres if you insist on cooking something,” I told him.  “Oh, and wear something nice!  The restaurant we’ll be going to is a couple steps above jeans and t-shirts.”

He nodded and headed to his room to change, scooping up his clothes along the way.  I rose as well and went into the bathroom to wash off the evidence of our earlier exertions.  After dressing in a clean shirt and pair of slacks, I made my way to the kitchen, where Dean was preparing some kind of cheese spread.  He was now wearing a mint-green button-down shirt and gray slacks.

I stepped up behind him, put my arms around his waist, and dropped a kiss on the side of his neck.  “Mmm, you look _good_ in this outfit.  Which reminds me that I should get you fitted for a good suit sometime soon.”

He leaned into me for a moment before pulling away.  “Dunno why I’d need one, man.  It ain’t like I’ll be going on job interviews anytime soon, and even if I could work, it wouldn’t be any place where I’d hafta wear a suit.”

“You never know—we could get invited to a wedding or some other formal occasion,” I said as I sat at the breakfast bar.  “Oh, Ruby texted to say she should be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Ruby . . . she’s your assistant, right?  The one that’s got the hots for you?” he asked as he put the spread in the fridge and took out some tomatoes.

“Yeah, so try to ignore her if she acts catty—she probably thinks of you as a rival, even though I’ve told her before that nothing can happen between us.  Despite that, she’s an excellent assistant and a pretty good friend,” I replied, watching him mince the tomatoes.  “She was understandably worried when Alastair showed up, but I didn’t want to explain at the office.”

He made a noncommittal noise as he continued to make what appeared to be bruschetta topping.  “She’s a demon too, like Crowley?”

“She is, but don’t mention Crowley to her!  She _really_ doesn’t like him for some reason.”

“Maybe she was one of those who had to choose between bowing down to him or being fed to Juliet,” Dean said.  “Speaking of which, I expected hellhounds to be _way_ more terrifying.  I mean, yeah, she’s huge and has big-ass teeth and claws, and Alastair’s goons seemed ready to wet themselves when they saw her.  But she didn’t seem different than any other friendly dog with me and you.”

“That’s Crowley’s influence again.  Hellhounds _are_ aggressive and vicious, and their primary duty is bringing down the damned once their time is up.  Crowley’s a dog person though, and the hellhounds he’s raised are better socialized,” I explained.  “Juliet can be more than savage enough to anyone he designates as prey, but with those he deems friends she can be quite affectionate.”

“Kinda reminds me of Bobby’s dogs.  He’s always had a Rottweiler or two ‘round the salvage yard.  They’d act all fierce in front of strangers, but they’re big, dopey babies with the people they trusted.”  Dean smiled in reminiscence before setting the tomato mixture aside to marinate and pulling a tray of toasted baguette slices out of the oven.

“I can tell I’m going to be in trouble the next time Juliet has a litter,” I mock-complained.  “Crowley’s been trying to convince me to take one of her pups for ages.  Don’t get me wrong—I love dogs!  But with the long hours I used to work, it didn’t seem fair to get a pet.  If Crowley figures out that _you_ like dogs too . . .”

He snickered.  “Poor Sam!  Now get outta my kitchen so I can work!  First time you invite someone over who can actually _eat_ since Charlie, and your dumb ass gives me less than half an hour to cook!”

I beat a hasty retreat to the living room to avoid getting assaulted by kitchen utensils and turned on the news to kill time until our guest arrived.  Dean joined me about fifteen minutes later carrying a plate of bruschetta and another of vegetables and onion dip.  I returned to the kitchen to fetch the plate of crackers and cheese spread on the counter and a couple bottles of beer.

The doorbell rang just as I was setting everything down on the coffee table.  I handed one of the bottles to Dean and then answered the door.  “Hey, Ruby.  Glad you could make it over!”

Ruby hurried inside.  “Sorry I’m a little late, but the trains were running behind.  Is everything alright?”

“Yes, we’re fine now.  There was a bit of a scare earlier, but we took care of it.  Have a seat and I’ll explain,” I said as I guided her towards the living room.  “Ruby, this is Dean.  Dean, this is my executive assistant, Ruby.”

He stood and extended a hand.  “Hi, nice to meetcha.”

She just eyed him.  “Well, he’s certainly pretty enough.  I suppose I can see why you’d be infatuated, Sam.”

Dean stiffened in anger, and I glared at her.  “Ruby!  What the _fuck_?”

“What?  It’s not like I said anything that wasn’t true.”  She waved a nonchalant hand as she sat down.

“Ruby, you may be my friend, but you’re also a guest in _my_ house.  If you’re going to continue to be rude to Dean, who not only _lives_ here but also means a _hell_ of a lot more to me than simply a friend, you can _leave_!” I retorted between gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes.  “Fine, whatever!  I promise to behave, okay?  Now, you want to tell me why Mr. Tall and Creepy came by to see you earlier?”

“Alastair discovered something regarding Dean and tried to use it to intimidate me into turning Dean over to him.  He wasn’t too pleased when I told him where he could stuff his information,” I said while taking a seat on the couch.  Dean gave the demon another dirty look before joining me.

“What did he find out that he thought was so incriminating?” she asked.

I paused and studied her.  “I’m relying on your discretion here, alright?  He learned that someone close to Dean is a hunter, though Dean didn’t know about that before.”

Ruby looked shocked.  “A _hunter_?  That sounds pretty fucking serious, Sam!  Aren’t you worried about the problems this could cause?  And shouldn’t someone have figured this out sooner?”

“Fortunately for me, the Market assclowns dropped the ball on doing a proper background check when they grabbed me,” Dean replied.  “We figure they got too distracted by the fat profit they’d get from selling my ‘pretty’ ass.”

“And no, we’re not that worried.  Dean’s friend has no idea where he is or why, so he won’t be coming after us.  Alastair can’t do anything without proof of wrongdoing or tangible risk,” I said.

“Not that it stopped the douchebag from trying—he tried to send a coupla flunkies here while he was in Sam’s office.  Guess he’s used to people being too whipped by his fucking reputation to protest.  But Sam expected he might try something shady, so Crowley had some of _his_ muscle waiting here,” Dean added.

“I still can’t believe you turned to _him_ for help!” she sneered.

“I know you don’t like Crowley, but you also know who he _really_ is.  He’s the best person to use to trump Alastair’s efforts, and he’s always been a good friend,” I explained.  “I don’t think Alastair will be reckless enough to try anything anytime soon, but to be safe I’m filing a complaint with the rest of the Council tomorrow.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Sam?  Alastair’s _not_ the sort you want as an enemy!”  She now looked worried.

I shrugged.  “It’s too late for that.  I didn’t exactly mince my words when I told him off, so I’m already on his shit-list.  That, and I suspect he has his own reasons for wanting to get his hands on Dean.  The complaint _should_ cause enough of a stink to prevent him from making another attempt, and in case it doesn’t, it provides grounds for further actions against him.”

“Still, is this really worth the risk?  He’s on the _Council_.  You _know_ the kind of trouble he could cause!”  Ruby took a deep breath.  “I know you don’t want to hear it, but maybe it _would_ be best if you did what—”

“Ruby, if you want to remain my friend, don’t finish that sentence!” I interrupted warningly.  “There is _no_ way I’d turn _anyone_ over to the likes of Alastair, let alone someone as important to me as Dean!  That bastard may be used to threatening people into obeying him, but I’m _not_ going to bow down to his scare tactics!  He has to follow the community’s rules just like the rest of us, and it’s high time someone reminded him of that.”

“Besides, it ain’t like we don’t know you got an ulterior motive for trying to get rid of me, sister!” Dean said derisively.  “You honestly think that if I’m no longer in the picture, Sam’s suddenly gonna fall into your arms?  After all these years of telling you he ain’t interested?”

“I don’t have to take shit from the likes of you, you little _whore_!”  She shot to her feet and faced me.  “Listen, Sam, you know I only have your best interests at heart, right?  It’s great that you want to stand up to Alastair and his bullshit, but you need to pick your battles more carefully.  This _meat bag_ isn’t worth that kind of trouble!  I mean, what can he offer you besides a pretty face and a tight ass?  Get rid of him and find someone who _deserves_ someone as amazing as you!  You need someone—”

“Like you?” I interrupted.  I stood and went to the door.  “I think it’s time you left.  I’m sure you _think_ you mean well, but I’m not listening to any more of your petty jealousy.  If you can’t lose the attitude by tomorrow morning, you should consider taking a personal day or two.”

“Fine, I’m out of here!  I promise I won’t say anything about your ‘problem,’ only because I don’t want to see _you_ get in trouble.  But I’m telling you, you’re making a _big_ mistake!”  She then stalked out of the apartment.

“Damn, you call that skank your _friend_?” Dean demanded the moment the door shut behind her.

I walked back over to the couch and slumped down.  “Dude, I am _so_ sorry for how she acted!  I expected her to maybe be a _little_ bitchy, but not like _that_!”

“Thing is though, maybe she does have a point.  Am I _really_ worth this kinda shit, Sam?  What makes _me_ so fucking special?”  He dropped his gaze to his lap.  “You only bought me for my looks after all, and ‘cause you didn’t already have an omega.  And I read in one of your books that omegas are prized by your kind since we don’t drain as easily or something.  It ain’t like I’m smart or educated or skilled in anything besides cooking.”

I caught hold of his hands and waited until he lifted his eyes to meet mine.  “You need to stop thinking like that!  _None_ of the shit Ruby said about you is true, okay?  You’ve _never_ been just a pretty face to me!

“I won’t deny that your appearance and scent caught my attention back at the Food Market, but they _weren't_ the only reasons I wanted to have you.  Even in that cell, your spirit and strength of character _shone_ , and I bought you for _that_ just as much as for your physical qualities.  And yes, it’s rumored that omegas make better long-term companions for incubi—something about the same qualities that allow them to withstand alpha rut makes them better able to tolerate our feeding.  But I honestly didn’t think about that particular theory until you mentioned it just now, so it’s never been a factor in why I wanted you.

“I think I’ve gotten to know you fairly well over the past few weeks, so I’m confident in saying that you’re an _amazing_ person, Dean.  You’re brave, kind, funny, and so very strong.  You might not have had the educational opportunities you deserve, but you’re very intelligent.  As for your skills—you’re an incredible cook, you’ve done a better job turning this place into a home than the expensive designer I originally hired, and I’m fully aware of all the things you’ve fixed and built around here.  I am _extremely_ lucky to have met you, and you are worth every risk and hardship that might come up.”

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  “Thanks, Sammy.  Still, we don’t know how much deep shit this could land you in, so—”

“Don’t even go there, man!  I am _not_ turning you over to be tortured and worse just because I _might_ get in a little hot water!” I exclaimed.  “Listen, we’re not living in some version of _Mad Max_ here.  Despite some of its barbaric practices, the community _does_ have rules—rules that even people like Alastair have to obey.  So I promise you, there really isn’t that much he can do to me.  We have no need to cave in to his demands.”

“I guess if you’re sure, that’ll hafta be good enough for me.  Lemme take care of this food, and then we can get outta here.”  He stood and picked up two of the plates of appetizers.  “Oh, and I need to apply some scent blocker before we leave.”

“Skip the blocker this time, okay?  I want to show you off!” I said as I took the remaining plate and beer bottles.

He rolled his eyes.  “Channeling your inner cave-man much there?  Fine, but if I have to beat off any horny douchebags, you’re sleeping on the couch!”

“This is supposed to be a pretty fancy place, so I should hope the clientele will be well-behaved,” I replied.

We carried the dishes into the kitchen, where I helped him put everything away.  Once the kitchen was tidied up, I went into my room to deactivate the containment spell before leading him out of the apartment and into the elevator.

“So how frou-frou is this place you’re taking me to?” Dean asked as we rode down.

“Don’t worry—I’m no more interested in eating at someplace that charges an exorbitant amount for a tiny morsel of food than you are,” I assured him.  “We’re heading to a high-end steakhouse I’ve heard good things about.  I haven’t been there before myself, but I’ve had several people recommend it to me.”

He grinned excitedly.  “Awesome!  You had me at steak!”

“One thing though—this restaurant isn’t part of the community.  So we’ll need to be careful about not discussing certain things where anyone can overhear,” I warned.

“No problem!  I’ll be glad to talk ‘bout something else besides supernatural shit for a while.”

The drive to the restaurant was uneventful.  Dean sang along to the classic rock station and drummed his hands on the dash.  I shook my head at his antics, though I was secretly pleased to see his mood had improved.  Once we arrived, I parked in the adjacent lot, looped an arm through his, and entered the tastefully appointed lobby.

The _maître d’hôtel_ looked up as we approached.  “Good evening, sir.  Do you have a reservation tonight?”

I smiled charmingly at her.  “My apologies, but I’m afraid we don’t.  This was a bit of a last-minute decision.  Will that be a problem?”

“Of course not, alpha!  This should only take a few moments.”  She tapped on her screen a few times and then picked up two menus.  “If you’ll please accompany me, sir?”

I put a hand on the small of the omega’s back before following the _maître d’_.  As we wound through the main dining room, nostrils flared, eyes widened, and heads turned to track my companion passing by.  His cheeks turned a bit pink at the attention, and I felt more than a bit smug.

After we were seated and the _maître d’_ had left, he leaned forward and hissed, “Quit it, ya big ape!  If you try to piss on me to mark territory, I _will_ rip your damn nuts off!”

I smirked in response.  “Pick whatever you want, and don’t worry about the cost.  I feel like splurging tonight.”

His brows rose as he looked at the prices.  “Sonofabitch!  My old man woulda _hated_ this, ya know.  He was always disappointed that he wasn’t an alpha—even convinced himself _that_ was the reason he wasn’t successful.  Anytime he saw some alpha getting preferential treatment, like you getting this table, he’d go fucking nuts.”

“I try to take advantage of my status as little as possible, but sometimes it’s hard to avoid,” I said a bit guiltily.  “It’s ridiculous that so much attention is still paid to one’s designation.  Alphas like me have it easy, but the way you and other omegas are treated is shameful.”

“Tell me ‘bout it!  But I don’t wanna talk ‘bout shit like that right now.  I wanna enjoy myself,” he declared.

We started our meal with half a dozen oysters on the half-shell, followed by a wedge salad for him and baby beet salad for me, and then seared scallops and wagyu sliders for appetizers.  The main course was a thirty-two ounce porterhouse steak with au poivre sauce for two, accompanied by potato gratin, grilled broccoli, and truffle macaroni and cheese, and paired with a cabernet sauvignon.  The service was impeccable, and the food was exquisite.  Dean took his time with each dish, and I could almost see the wheels in his head turning.

For dessert, we ordered s’mores crème brûlée and coffee for him and carrot cake and thirty-year-old tawny port for me.  After placing the order, I left the table to use the restroom.  It was a bit of a risk leaving him alone like that, but after how well he’d behaved on our previous outings, I felt he deserved some trust.

When I returned, I noticed a tall, supercilious man in a rich suit standing by our table.  My lips drew back as I caught both the other alpha’s scent and Dean’s irritation.

“Dude, is there some part of _No_ you don’t get?  _No comprende ingles_?” Dean growled.

“You don’t want to make me angry, little omega,” the other man drawled.  “Do you know who I am?”

Dean retorted, “No, and I don’t fucking _care_.  I’m here with someone else, and even if I weren’t, I _still_ ain’t interested.  Now buzz off!”

“Since I don’t see or smell a claim, it seems this ‘someone else’ doesn’t care very much.”  The alpha started to reach a hand out.

I laid a firm hand on the man’s shoulder and turned him around.  “The gentleman said he wasn’t interested.  And the ‘someone else’ _does_ in fact care quite a bit.  Leave before I have you ejected from this restaurant!”

The arrogant interloper looked up and took in my superior height, enraged expression, and bared fangs.  He then pulled away and beat a hasty retreat without another word.  I took a deep breath and got myself under control.

As I sat down, the _maître d’_ hurried up.  “Is there a problem, sir?”

I smiled at her again.  “Not anymore, thank you.  Though I would appreciate it if you could ensure that the man who just walked away leaves these premises promptly.  I don’t take kindly to anyone harassing my friends.”

“I understand, sir, and I’ll see what we can do.  My humblest apologies for the disturbance.”  She headed back towards the lobby.

I then sighed as I caught Dean’s glare.  “Yeah, I know—couch for me tonight.”

Before he could lay into me, our desserts arrived.  Fortunately he seemed mollified by the confections and caffeine, and by the time we finished our meal, he appeared to have calmed down.  I paid our bill, and we made our way out of the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was still undecided when I started writing this chapter about whether Ruby was going to be a sympathetic character or not. When I got to the scene where she shows up at the apartment, I was feeling salty over a thread on Tumblr regarding S4 (basically someone trying to justify that Sam didn't do anything wrong). So Ruby ended up channeling her inner bitch here as a result! Whether she'll behave herself or cause trouble for Dean remains to be seen . . .
> 
> The menu for the restaurant Sam and Dean go to is based on that of Barclay Prime, a 5-star steakhouse near where I live. This has no relation to where Sam and Dean are, which I imagine is somewhere near the West Coast and isn't necessarily a real city. 
> 
> This update is going up a little later than originally anticipated because I didn't go to my parents' house last night, though my dad is coming to pick me up soon. Next week's update should be posted Monday afternoon or evening as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day! :)


	17. Chapter 17

We’d just entered the parking lot when two figures stepped out from between some parked cars.  One was the rude alpha from the restaurant, now wearing an extremely petulant expression.  The other man was built like a linebacker and, judging from his much cheaper suit, was probably some kind of paid muscle.

“Oh come on!  You _gotta_ be kidding me!” Dean groaned as the others approached.

“You have the nerve to get _me_ thrown out of a restaurant?” the asshole demanded, staring angrily up at me.  “You obviously need an object lesson, boy!  And since you’re not interested or capable enough to claim and breed this little bitch like he deserves, I think I’ll be taking him off your hands too.  Mr. Cummings, please educate this man.”

The bodyguard nodded and brushed by Dean, knocking him aside as if he wasn’t a threat.  Dean’s response was to kick out and sweep his legs out from under him.  After the pile of muscle hit the ground heavily, Dean booted him onto his stomach, knelt on his back, and pulled him into an armlock.

Satisfied that the hired help was being dealt with, I turned my attention to the officious jackass.  Apparently unaware that his companion was no longer backing him up, he stepped closer and took a clumsy swing at me.  I voided, grabbed his extended arm, and swung him forcibly into a nearby light pole.  There was a pained yelp behind me, but I didn’t turn since it wasn’t Dean’s voice.  Instead I twisted the dazed moron’s arm tightly behind him and kicked the backs of his knees to make him drop.

I leaned down and growled, “You were saying something needing about an object lesson, douchebag?  You should stay still now, unless you want to ‘learn’ some more.”

I pushed him the rest of the way down, keeping his arm twisted behind his back, and looked over my shoulder.  Dean had the bodyguard’s wrists restrained with his own tie, and the man was attempting to curl into a fetal position.  Recognizing a good idea, I pulled my idiot’s tie from around his neck.

“Are you alright, Dean?” I asked as I trussed the dumbass up.

“Yeah, I’m peachy.  Tweedledum here didn’t get a hit on me once.  He did try to get ornery when I was tying him up, so I punched him in the balls.  He’s been behaving himself ever since,” Dean responded.  “You need help with dickwad over there?”

“Just watch him for a moment.”  I stood, pulled out my phone, and looked up my contacts.  “Hi Benny, it’s Sam.  I need some police assistance—I’m reporting an attempted assault and kidnapping.”

“You okay, chief?  Need me to send an ambulance or something?”  Benny’s voice was concerned.

“We’re fine, and we have the assailants subdued.  Just need someone to pick them up and take our statements.  You can also get statements from some of the restaurant staff who saw the one guy harass Dean, and they’ve got security cameras out here as well,” I replied before giving him our location and hanging up.

“Wha—what are you doing?”  The formerly imperious prick now sounded panicked.

“What does it sound like?  I’m having your stupid ass arrested.  Did you _honestly_ think you could try to attack me and abduct my friend without repercussions?  You’re obviously not too bright, are you?”  I shook my head as I walked over to Dean.

“He’s probably one of those sonsofbitches who inherited his money from daddy—never had to work a day in his life or use his brain before.  Too used to everything falling in his lap just ‘cause he’s a rich dick of an alpha,” Dean commented as I put an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m sure you’re right.  The imbecile definitely forgot he’s living in the twenty-first century now,” I said.

It wasn’t long before Benny pulled up, along with another squad car.  The other officers cuffed the two men and bundled them into the car, accompanied by shrill protests from the douchebag.  Benny then approached us.  Dean shook my arm off as Benny pulled out a small notepad.

“Glad to see you both are doing okay.  You ready to gimme your statements now?” he inquired.

“Sure, Benny.  Sam wanted to take me to this fancy restaurant here for dinner.  I made the mistake of letting his brainless ass convince me not to wear any scent blockers because he wanted to wave his damn dick around in front of the other fat cats,” Dean said acidly.  “Most of the meal was fine, until he needed to powder his nose.  Barely a minute after he left the table, this asshat alpha comes up—the one that was yelling ‘You can’t do this to me’ and similar bullshit just now.  Dude tried to be all suave, but it was pretty obvious he was thinking with _his_ fucking crotch too.  Told me how rich he was and wanted me to come back with him.  I told him _No_ several times, but he didn’t wanna hear it.”

“I returned to the table at this point, and I could tell this man was bothering Dean.  I put a hand on his shoulder and told him his attentions were unwanted.  When he got my scent and saw how big I was, he left pretty quickly,” I added.  “The _maître d’hôtel_ come over to see if there was a problem, and I asked her to make sure he’d left the restaurant—I didn’t want him continuing to cause trouble.  We then finished our meal and left ourselves.”

Dean picked up the narrative again.  “We got to the parking lot, and the bastard and a hired goon were waiting for us.  The guy mouthed off about teaching Sam a lesson and taking me himself before ordering the goon to go after Sam.  The thug tried to knock me aside like I was nothing, so I kicked his legs out from under him and got him in an armlock.  He tried to struggle when I went to tie him up, so I punched him in the fucking nads.”

“While this was going on, the alpha took a swing at me.  Luckily for me, it was obvious that he didn’t know how to fight properly.  I grabbed his arm, knocked him into that pole over there, and then dropped him to his knees.  I restrained him before calling you, and we watched over both of them until you arrived,” I concluded.

“Alright, seems straightforward enough.  I’ll talk to the _maître d’_ and other restaurant staff and get the security footage right now.  I’ll question the two perps when we get ‘em back to the station.  You can head out.  If I need anything more from either of you, I’ll give you a call,” Benny told us.

“I also want to let you know that Alastair paid me a visit at my office this afternoon.  It went about how I expected—he postured and tried to intimidate me into turning Dean over to him, and he wasn’t happy at all when I refused,” I said.  “He also tried to send a couple brutes of his own to the apartment to seize Dean without my permission.  Fortunately I’d called Crowley for assistance the moment Alastair showed up, and _his_ men were able to overpower Alastair’s without an issue.”

Benny’s expression had become concerned.  “You gonna need help with that, Sam?”

“I think we’ve got it covered for now.  I’m going to up the security around the apartment—install cameras out in the hall, have warning and protective spells cast on the entrances, that sort of thing.  And Crowley’s people are going to keep a watch on the place for a while as well,” I explained.  “I don’t want to involve the mundane authorities unless absolutely necessary—too many potential questions.  I _will_ be filing a complaint with the Council tomorrow, and Crowley’s providing a witness statement.”

“I suppose you got everything under control at the moment.  You take care though, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, you hear?” Benny responded.

Dean was quiet on the way home, but I didn’t need my empathic ability to tell that he was still seething.  The moment the apartment door closed behind us, he swung around and slugged me _hard_ in the shoulder.  I staggered back a couple steps and brought a hand up to rub the spot he’d hit.

“God fucking _dammit_!  This is the _last_ damn time I listen to you ‘bout this shit!  I thought you’d learned from the first time we went out, but _no_ —you had to think with your fucking downstairs brain and show off to the _other_ rich alpha assholes there.  We’re just lucky that douchebag was a complete fucking moron and only called in one thug.  And that said thug made the mistake of ignoring me,” he snarled.

“ _Other_ assholes?” I asked quietly.

He stepped up into my face, his fists clenched.  “Yes, Sam, that’s what I fucking said!  Have _you_ ever been poor, so damn poor that sometimes you had to choose between _eating_ and paying for rent or gas?  Of course not—you’ve always had it easy, ain’t you?  Had no problem dropping five figures to purchase _me_ , after all!  Plus you grew up in a time when alphas getting special privileges was actual goddamn _law_ , as was treating omegas little better than slaves.  So you have _no_ fucking clue ‘bout the shit that I’ve had to deal with _my whole fucking life_!”

I winced at his words.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I didn’t think about the consequences, and I screwed up big-time.  But cut me some slack, okay?  I’ve _never_ treated you as less than me because you’re an omega or human or from a poor background.  I can’t change your past, so the best I can do is share what I’ve got and try to make your future better.”

“Which is great and all, but it don’t change the fact that your stupid hindbrain crap could’ve gotten us hurt or _worse_.  Hiding my scent ain’t for shits and giggles!  There are _reasons_ why any omega who doesn’t wanna be a fuck-toy views alphas as a threat.”  He walked over to the couch and sat down.

I took a seat beside him and asked carefully, “Is that how you think of me—as a threat?”

Dean looked startled.  “ _You_?  Of course not!  Not since those first few days when I didn’t know you.  I trust that _you_ ain’t gonna do anything I don’t want.  But someone like me _always_ gotta treat other alphas out there with extreme caution, ‘specially the ones that ain’t got a mate yet.”

“Well, I _have_ learned my lesson this time, and this won’t happen again.  It’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and I can’t let myself forget that,” I said contritely.  “So . . . truce?”

He leaned back against the sofa.  “I guess.  I suppose you can’t help not being as evolved as the rest of us.  Just don’t pull this kinda dumbass shit again!”

“I won’t.  And I’m plenty evolved, I’ll have you know!”  Sensing that his anger had dissipated, I leaned down and pressed my lips over his throat.

He pushed my head away and looked at me incredulously.  “Dude, _really_?  You think I’m gonna be in the mood after all this?”

“Hey, sex makes everything better!  I _am_ an incubus, after all.”  I gave him a cajoling smile.  “Besides, I can’t help it!  Seeing how effortlessly you took down that meathead was _hot_!”

“You’re incorrigible, man!  Like I told you earlier, this ain’t my first rodeo, nor the worst shit I’ve been in.  I’ve been dealing with regular old humans causing plenty of trouble long before I knew ‘bout the supernatural.”  He relaxed back against the couch.  “Your moves weren’t too bad either, I gotta admit.  And maybe I could be convinced that I need a . . . distraction right now.”

“I wasn’t always a mild-mannered lawyer.  And like you mentioned before, that gym isn’t for show.”  I lowered my lips to his neck again.  “Let me make you feel better.  It’s the least I can do right now.”

He allowed me to kiss up his neck and across his jaw but pushed me away again before my lips reached his mouth.  “Lemme get washed up first.  Kinda awkward to brush your teeth with a boner!”

He got up and disappeared into his room after I nodded and sat back.  The first thing I did when I got to my bedroom was reset the containment spell, and then I undressed and washed up myself.  By the time Dean came into the room, I was lying on the bed waiting for him.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that he was naked.

“Nice outfit!” I commented with a grin.

He blushed and shrugged.  “You’ve already seen me naked plenty by now, and I figured there ain’t much point in putting something on when it’s gonna come off in a few minutes.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable enough to do this, Dean.  Now why don’t you come here and lie down on your stomach?” I suggested.  “I want to give you a back rub—today’s been rather stressful, and you could use some help relaxing.”

“Sounds like an awesome idea, man!”  He climbed onto the bed and stretched out on his belly.

I grabbed the bottle of massage oil I’d placed on the nightstand and straddled his hips.  I poured some of the oil into my hands and let it warm up before spreading it across the skin of his back.  I started with smooth, gliding hand-over-hand strokes along his shoulders and back, initially running my hands slowly and soothingly up either side of his spine and then increasing the pressure with my fingers or the heels of my hands.  He hummed and purred appreciatively as his muscles loosened, occasionally gasping when I kneaded a particularly tight spot.

“Oh man, that feels _incredible_!” he moaned.

“One picks up all sorts of useful skills when one lives as long as we do,” I said with a smile.

Once I’d reduced the omega to a boneless puddle, I wiped my hands off on the towel I’d also laid on the nightstand and then turned him over onto his back.  He smiled up at me as I bent down to kiss him, and this time he parted his lips to let my tongue in.  As we exchanged deep kisses, I slid my hands up his abdomen and massaged his chest muscles.  He ran his across my shoulders and up into my hair, where he alternated between rubbing my scalp and tugging on my hair, and soon had me groaning.

“You like this, Sammy?  Like it when I tug and play with your hair?” he murmured.

“Fuck yes!” I replied enthusiastically, as he pulled hard enough to draw my head back.

Dean abruptly flipped us over and began nipping across my jaw.  He bit at my earlobe for a moment before working his lips along my neck.  He paused at the juncture of my neck and shoulder to nibble and suck a mark there, and then kissed his way down my chest.  When he got to one of my nipples, he flicked the tip with his tongue a few times before taking the whole nub in his mouth and suckling.  He switched to the other nipple after a little bit and repeated his actions.

While he was playing with my nipples, I slipped a hand down and wrapped it around his cock.  The hand job I’d given him earlier in the day had been frantic and hurried, and so I was determined to take my time now.  I started by slowly sliding one hand up and down his shaft and over the head, while the other hand gently fondled and rolled his testicles.  He gasped and tightened his grip on my sides in response to the stimulation and then reached up to capture my lips with his. 

I gradually increased the intensity of my strokes, and he whined into my mouth and pumped his hips against my hands.  Our kissing became more passionate as my hands moved faster on his cock and balls, and I drank in his growing waves of pleasure.  He suddenly buried his face in my shoulder before stiffening and crying out as he came all over my fingers and belly.  I quickly pushed my boxers down to grasp my own member, and it took only a few jerks before my seed joined his.

Dean rolled over and fished out one of the washcloths I’d started stashing in the nightstand drawers.  After helping me clean up and tossing the cloth in the direction of the bathroom, he settled back against my side.  I put my arms around him and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, now feeling somewhat drowsy after feeding.

“I really _am_ sorry, Dean,” I said softly.  “I won’t take your concerns lightly again.  You were right before—I _have_ had it much easier all my life than you.”

“It’s okay, Sammy.  I know you didn’t mean for anything to happen earlier.  Now you know better,” he replied just as softly.

“What I know is that I don’t deserve you.  And that my job is to make things easier for you, not harder.”  I kissed him again.

“Okay, okay, enough with the mushy shit!” he scolded fondly.  “You think Benny has that asshat taken care of?”

“Definitely.  The idiot left far too much incriminating evidence behind, between the witnesses he harassed you in front of and the security footage of his assault attempt.  Knowing Benny, he’ll get the bodyguard to flip on his boss for good measure, since the guard was just following his dumbass instructions,” I explained.

The omega’s brow furrowed.  “But he’s some rich alpha.  Ain’t he just gonna get a slap on the wrist?”

“Normally, maybe.  But he attacked another alpha, which does make a difference.  And since he’s not part of the community, we can pull some strings with the court to make sure he gets the maximum sentence.  We _do_ control the city,” I added at his surprised look.

“Fuck, I really hate that shit!  Even if it works in our favor this time,” he complained.  “What ‘bout Ruby?  Is she gonna behave?”

“I think so.  I know it didn’t seem like it before, but she’s been a good friend to me.  She won’t cause trouble,” I assured him.

“I just hope this don’t bite us in the ass later,” Dean said before closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to have the asshole alpha from the previous chapter try to attack the boys not only to emphasize the trouble Dean has to deal with as a single omega, but also show them kicking ass. Sam and Dean may not be hunters in this AU, but they still can be BAMFs when needed. I personally don't like how often the brothers get thrown around on the show and would prefer seeing them badass more often.
> 
> BTW, the asshole's comment about "breeding" is NOT a reference to mpreg--just the guy being a jerk. I don't really care for the concept, both because it's a biological impossibility (males don't have female reproductive organs) and because virtually all mpreg stories completely ignore the dangers of inbreeding (I have literally read only 1 story so far where their child inherited a birth defect, and that was actually a genderswap story, not mpreg). If I want Sam and Dean to have a kid, I'd have them adopt, find a surrogate, or discover a lovechild from a long-ago fling (or bring in kid!Alec from Dark Angel). Mpreg doesn't exist in this AU, and if I ever choose to write an mpreg story in the future, it won't be as clueless as most other stories seem to be.
> 
> Next week's update should go up by Monday afternoon or evening as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	18. Chapter 18

“Find anything interesting yet?” I asked as I looked over Dean’s shoulder.

He’d been on my laptop—under supervision, of course—since after dinner.  He initially checked and answered a few emails, mainly from Charlie, Ash, Jo, and Bobby.  Then he started looking up symptoms and treatments for heat stroke, thinking that the best way to prepare for his heat was learning how to treat its effects on his body.  My own research into alternate methods to deal with the heat itself was going slowly, particularly since much of what I’d found required translation.

He looked up from the screen.  “Yeah, there’s plenty of info out there on how to treat this shit.  But it looks like for the really bad cases, you wanna have a doc there.  Simple stuff like ice baths are one thing, but administering the right meds and dealing with unexpected crap is gonna need medical training.”

“We’ll have to see if Dr. Talbot can make a house call then, if that’s the route we decide to go.  This is still more than what I’ve managed to find so far.  Most of what’s in English offers the same damn ‘solution’—find an alpha.  I’m waiting on translations for a few other articles though,” I said.

“Well, hopefully some of ‘em will be more useful.”  He closed the laptop and stretched, then smiled when I leaned down and kissed behind his ear.

It was now a little more than a week since Alastair’s visit to my office.  I’d filed my complaint against him, accompanied by Crowley’s witness statement, the audio recording from my office, and the video recording from the apartment, and sent copies to each Commission’s office to ensure Alastair couldn’t squash it.  In addition, I’d filed a complaint against the Food Market for their incomplete background check.  This would hopefully serve to not only distract the Security Commission’s attention further away from Dean but also cause trouble for the Market itself.  If the investigation turned up a repeated history of negligence, the Market possibly could be permanently weakened.

To ensure that we didn’t see a repeat of the kidnapping attempt, I had a new alarm system and more security cameras installed, including in the hallway and on the terrace.  Rowena, Crowley’s mother and the most powerful witch in the city, cast a series of protective wards throughout the apartment.  Crowley’s men kept watch for a few days, and he began leaving Juliet with Dean during the day.  I felt as confident as possible under the circumstances at how well-protected the omega now was.

Dean and I also went to the police station and gave our official statements against the alpha who’d attempted to assault us.  These, combined with the security camera footage and testimony from the restaurant staff and the bodyguard, ensured that he’d be convicted.  Benny predicted that the man would choose to plea-bargain rather than endure the embarrassment of a trial.

Most importantly, Dean was becoming more and more comfortable with my touch, with my hands being nearly everywhere on his body.  He was turning into one of the most responsive lovers I’d ever had, and watching him bloom was even more satisfying than the feeding itself.  I still wasn’t sure if he’d make enough progress before his heat, but I was feeling increasingly optimistic.

For now, he relaxed against my chest and ran a hand through my hair as I kissed down the column of his neck.  I lifted my head when my lips reached the collar and gazed at his pleased expression.

“I’m glad you’re taking this so calmly,” I murmured.

“We still got several weeks before the fucking thing might start.  If I was trying to take this shit on all by myself, I’d be freaking the hell out, but I guess I got a good feeling ‘bout us finding a way through together.”  He reached up and placed a kiss on the side of my mouth.

“On a lighter note, I got a reminder today about RSVPing for the firm’s anniversary gala next week.  With everything else going on, it slipped my mind before.  They hold a big party around this time every year at the Ritz-Carlton ballroom.  Would you want to come with me?” I asked.

“Ritz-Carlton, huh?  Sounds fancy!”  He paused and leveled a direct stare at me.  “In what capacity exactly would I be going if I agreed?  As your friend?  Or as your trophy?”

I winced internally—the incident at the steakhouse obviously hadn’t been forgotten.  “Well, I was _hoping_ to take you as my boyfriend.  I’ve usually gone alone in the past or with a friend—I went with Ruby once and Jo a couple times, among others.  This would be the first time I’d be attending with a—a significant other.”

Dean’s eyes were wide and startled.  “Boyfriend?  You—you _mean_ that?”

“Of course!  We live together after all, and we’ve been getting more and more intimate.  More importantly, I _care_ about you deeply, and I—I think you feel the same way.  If it weren’t for our messed-up situation, I’d have called you this sooner.  So what do you say?”  I took his hands in mine.

His voice was husky as he replied.  “Sam, I dunno what to . . .  Yes, I wanna go as—as your boyfriend!”

“Great!  The firm also reserves a few rooms for the weekend, for anyone who’d like to enjoy the hotel’s amenities.  First pick goes to the partners and other higher-ups.  I can see if a room’s still available, if you’d like,” I said.  “This is a black-tie affair, so we’ll have to get you fitted for a tux.”

“A room there sounds awesome—ain’t ever stayed at a five-star hotel before.  Dunno ‘bout wearing a fucking penguin suit though, dude.  Bobby rented me one for my senior prom, and I hated it—it didn’t fit right, and I felt like a goddamn dork.”  He grimaced.

“That can happen with a cheap rental, but a bespoke tuxedo or suit is a _whole_ other ballgame.  I promise you’ll look _gorgeous_ ,” I replied.  “I’ll take you to where I buy mine.”

He groaned.  “Fine!  But I reserve the right to veto if I look like a dumbass.  And I draw the line at bow-ties!”

“I think you’ll survive the ordeal,” I said with a laugh.  I quickly sobered up and gave him a serious look.  “One more thing though . . . I’ll need to feed properly before then.  I figure I’ll go out to the club again some—”

Dean shot up straight.  “Hell no!  I _told_ you before I don’t want you feeding on anyone else, and I fucking _meant_ it!  If you need more, then _I’ll_ take care of it!”

I sighed.  “I don’t want to go to anyone else either, but we don’t have a choice!  I told _you_ before that I’m _not_ going to rush—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and I _ain’t_ talking ‘bout that!  Listen to me, Sam!  I get that for a real feeding you need multiple orgasms and shit.  But does it matter _how_ you get those damn orgasms?” he demanded.  “We might not be ready for full-on fucking yet, but there’s still plenty we _can_ do.  We just . . . we just need to do _more_ of it.”

I frowned.  “It still feels like we’d be pushing you too much.  You’re _not_ obligated to do this, Dean.”

“How many times I gotta fucking tell you this?  I _like_ what we’ve been doing, and _more_ of it ain’t exactly a hardship!” he retorted impatiently.  “And it ain’t like we gotta do it all at once, right?  If we spread it out over a few days, you can get what you need without straining my limits or whatever.”

I studied his determined expression for a moment.  “Alright, we’ll give it a try.  How about we _both_ go to the club on Friday then?  Not for feeding, from you or anyone else, but just for fun.”

He grinned.  “As long as I don’t gotta wear eyeliner or duct tape, I’m down with that!”

The next day we went the custom tailor’s shop on the second floor after dinner.  The owner came up as we walked in.

“Good evening, Mr. Campbell.  How can we help you today?” the leprechaun asked.

“Mr. Whittaker, I’d like you to meet Dean.  I want to get him fitted for a tuxedo and a couple suits.  The tuxedo is the priority—it must be ready by next Saturday,” I replied.

“And no bow-ties!” Dean insisted.

“Ah, so we’d prefer something more non-traditional, I take it?”  Whittaker looked him over appraisingly.  “Please come with me then, sir, so I can get your measurements.”

He and an assistant led us to a private dressing area with a small platform in front of a set of mirrors.  They had Dean strip down to his underwear and took a detailed set of measurements, then brought out a series of samples for the younger man to try on.  I felt rather like Richard Gere in _Pretty Woman_ as I watched Dean model various outfits.

After a couple hours of increasing fidgets and complaints from my companion, we settled on a slim-fit midnight blue tuxedo with a black shawl collar, black high-cut vest, pique-front white shirt with gold cufflinks, and emerald silk brocade tie and pocket square.  We also selected two fitted suits, one in charcoal grey and one in burgundy, with shirts and ties to match, and some separates for less formal occasions.  The tuxedo would be ready, after additional fittings, the day before the gala, while we’d pick up the rest in another week or two.

“Well, that’s time I ain’t getting back!  I dunno how chicks enjoy doing that for _hours_ ,” Dean groused as we left the shop.  “And I still say you don’t need to get me all that.  I’m a pretty casual guy, so I dunno when I’d use _half_ the shit we just ordered.”

“You’d be surprised how useful a good suit can be, man!  Most of the places we’ve gone to so far have been low-key, but as we start socializing together more, there’s going to be more occasions requiring fancier dress—work functions like this gala, fundraising events, trips to the opera or orchestra, et cetera,” I told him.  “Not to mention that my firm does have clients outside this community that I’ll need to visit at some point.  I’ve been putting off or delegating those trips recently because I don’t want to leave you alone, but as soon as I can get permission to take you out of the city, I want to bring you with me.”

“I guess I’ll just hafta wait and see.  Though if you drag me to the opera, then I get to take you to a rock concert, Sam!”

Friday evening rolled around soon enough.  After having chicken cacciatore with spaghetti for dinner and then cleaning up the kitchen, we retired to our rooms to get ready.  I showered, shaved, and changed into dark grey jeans and a black button-up shirt.  Dean was already waiting in the living room when I came out, dressed in snug black leather pants, a gray and black _Metallica_ t-shirt, and a black leather racer jacket.  I’d bought the pants and jacket for him the previous day for this occasion.

“Think this is goth enough for the club?” he asked with a grin as I approached.  “And hey, looks like we match!”

I put my arms around him and buried my nose in his shoulder.  The dark clothing brought out the fairness of his complexion and brightness of his hair, and its fit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, narrowness of his hips, and length of his legs.  His normally rich scent, muted by the blocker he was wearing, was overwhelmed by the smell of new leather.

“You look so incredibly sexy, Dean!  No one at the club will know what hit them when they see you,” I murmured, sliding a hand down the curve of his ass.  “Maybe we should stay here instead.  I’m not sure if I want to share you tonight!”

“Uh-uh, Sammy!  You promised you were taking me out, and I’m holding you to that!  Now c’mon!”  He stepped back and tugged my hand.

“Alright, alright!  Just give me a moment.”  I quickly returned to my bedroom to take down the containment spell, and then we left. 

As during my previous visit, I bypassed the line and led Dean straight to the club’s door.  Once I’d paid our cover charges, we entered the main room.  I slid an arm around his waist while he looked around with bright eyes.

I bent my head to place my mouth against his ear.  “What do you want to do first?”

He smiled up at me.  “Let’s get a coupla drinks and chill for a bit.”

I nodded and steered him toward the bar, where Lucky was once again on-duty.  “Hey Lucky!  I’d like you to meet Dean—I mentioned him to you last time.  How are you and the family doing?”

“Great to meetcha, Dean!  Sam’s been coming here for a while, and none of us ever thought he’d ever settle down!  Aiden’s doing great—he’s looking forward to summer vacation next month.  Mandy was upset ‘bout something at work for a little while, but I helped cheer her up.  She can never resist my kisses,” Lucky said proudly.

“I hope she appreciates having such a considerate boyfriend, dude!” Dean commented.

Lucky looked shocked and slightly scandalized.  “I’m not her _boyfriend_ —I’m her _dog_!”

I laughed at Dean’s befuddled expression.  “Lucky is a skinwalker, although Mandy didn’t know that when she adopted him—she thought he was a normal German Shepherd.  After they had trouble with some other skinwalkers, Lucky brought his family here so they’d be safe.”

“Sorry ‘bout that then, man—I didn’t mean to step in it like that!  I’m still getting used to how things work ‘round here,” Dean said ruefully.

Lucky waved a hand.  “No problem!  I promised Sam to buy you both a drink the first time he brought you here, so what’ll you have?”

After getting an Alabama Slammer for him and a mojito for me, we took our cocktails to one of the booths in the back.  I waited until we’d finished half our drinks before pulling the omega closer and tilting his head back for a kiss, which he returned enthusiastically.  I picked up my glass and dribbled some of the liquor onto his lips and down his chin and throat, then slowly licked his skin clean.  He yanked my head down for another deep kiss, dancing his tongue around mine and tugging firmly on my hair.

I pulled him onto my lap so that he was reclined against my arm and dripped more of my mojito onto the hollow of his throat.  As I bent my head to lap up the liquid, I slid a hand down to unfasten his pants.  The booth was dark enough and the table provided sufficient cover that no one else could see while I brought out his cock and started to stroke it.  He groaned and dug his fingers into my scalp as I bit at the base of his neck and jerked my hand rapidly up and down his shaft.  It took only a couple of minutes to bring him to climax, and I drank in his pleasure as he came over my fingers.

“Dude, that was _awesome_!” he purred languidly, watching as I licked his semen from my hand.  “What ‘bout you though?”

I tucked him back into his pants before replying.  “I can wait a little longer.  Let’s finish our drinks and then hit the dance floor.”

We tossed back the remainder of our cocktails and made our way to the center of the dance floor.  Dean closed his eyes and began swaying and twisting gracefully to the rhythm of the music playing.  I stepped in close behind him, put my hands on my hips, and let my body move in time with his.  He leaned his head back against my shoulder and drew my face down for a lengthy, tongue-laden kiss.  As the chemicals in my saliva took effect, he started to grind his ass against my already stiffened groin.

I felt the hot eyes of the other club-goers watching us avidly as we danced together and smirked.  I slid my hands from his hips and up his stomach to his chest, pulling his t-shirt up a bit and baring a flash of pale, taut belly.  My hands continued to caress his torso while my lips wandered down to suck on his neck just above the collar.  The desire of those around us intensified, and I experienced a heady rush, knowing that all these people panted after the beautiful man in my arms but couldn’t have him.

I looked down at his fluttering lashes, flushed skin, and panting lips.  “You like how everyone is watching us, Dean?  Is it turning you on even more?”

He spun around lithely and reached up for another ardent kiss before responding.  “Fuck yeah!  But I think we’re gonna need some privacy for what I wanna do next!”

Not needing further encouragement, I guided him back toward the bar, where we got two more drinks and a key.  We then headed down the hallway behind the bar to one of the private rooms.  I fumbled with the lock for a moment in my eagerness before getting the door open.  While Dean set the cocktails down on a small table, I relocked the door and threw the key onto a nearby chair.

The moment my hands were free, I shoved him against the door and seized his lush lips with mine.  He kissed back just as fiercely while his nimble fingers attacked the buttons on my shirt.  I in turn pushed his jacket off his shoulders, grabbed him by the waist, and hoisted him up.  He wrapped his legs around my hips and lifted his arms, allowing me to pull his t-shirt off and toss it aside.  He gripped my shoulders tightly as I kissed along his collarbone and down his sternum before taking one of his pink nipples in my mouth.

I switched to the other nipple and carried him over to the sofa, letting go of the tender peak only when I set him down.  He immediately kicked off his boots and undid his pants, and I helped pull them and his boxer-briefs off.  I shrugged my shirt off before sitting down, and the omega promptly climbed onto my lap.  He ran his fingers over my pectoral muscles and through the hair there, then down my abdomen and over my denim-clad groin.  He unfastened my jeans and slowly reached inside.

I groaned appreciatively as his hand curled around my cock and fondled it for a moment before pulling it out.  He shimmied closer, bringing his erect member up alongside mine, and then he placed his hands on my shoulders and began rolling his hips and rubbing our shafts together.  I grasped his hips and thrust up repeatedly, and our sighs and gasps filled the room as we rutted against each other.

“ _Ahh_ , Sammy, yeah!  That feels so fucking good!” he moaned before leaning up to give me a long, deep kiss.

I removed a hand from his hip and slipped it over the heads of our cocks, slicking it up with the pre-ejaculate fluid we were both dripping.  I then enveloped our shafts and stroked firmly up and down our lengths, listening to his mewls of pleasure and absorbing his growing passion.  I managed to hold back long enough to let him cum first before spilling my own seed.

We slumped against one another for a couple minutes, panting heavily, and then I reached over to grab the box of tissues off the table and cleaned us up.  After tossing the soiled tissues into the wastebasket in the corner, I picked up my mojito and took a long draught.

Dean slid off my lap and grabbed for his own drink.  “I gotta admit, dude, coming here was a pretty awesome idea.  Maybe we oughta make a habit of it?”

“I think I could get behind that.  Feeling those people out there watching you, _wanting_ you, was a great appetizer.  But this just now, this was _amazing_!”  I pressed my lips into his damp hair.  “How are you doing?”

He gave me a satiated grin.  “Well, I ain’t moving anywhere for a while, but I ain’t complaining!  You _do_ realize that those people weren’t just staring at me though, right?”

I shook my head.  “I doubt it, man.  I never got that kind of reaction when I came here alone.”

“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit for how hot you are, Sam.  I’m sure you had plenty of people ogling you before, but maybe you didn’t notice,” he argued.  “Anyways, gimme a little while to finish my booze and get dressed, and then we can go back to the dance floor for an encore performance!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To j.j. and anyone else who wanted to fantasize about Sam watching while Dean tried on suits and other clothes, here you go! And I hope folks enjoy the sexy little dance floor scene too. Apparently our boys have a bit of a exhibitionist kink! :)
> 
> I was waiting for a chance to expand on Lucky and his little family. I always felt sorry for him at the end of All Dogs Go to Heaven--to be rejected by the family he'd grown to care so much about. So in this AU, I changed it that Mandy was able to accept who he really was, and he brought them here to keep them safe from the other skinwalkers. I kept his role in the family as the pet, even though they know he's not just a dog, because I thought it would be cute and different.
> 
> This Friday is my last chemo treatment (YAY!), so the next chapter will probably be posted Sunday morning, as we'll be at my in-laws for Mother's Day in the afternoon and my parents' house in the evening. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day.


	19. Chapter 19

Dean whistled as he looked around our hotel room.  “Damn!  This place is fucking impressive!  And it makes the dumps I used to stay at seem even _more_ pathetic.”

The room featured a king-sized canopy bed with plush bedding, a large flat-screen TV hanging over the dresser, a small executive desk and chair, and a seating area with two armchairs and an end table.  French doors at one end opened onto a small balcony overlooking the courtyard.  The marble-tiled bathroom included double sinks, a separate water closet, deep soaker tub, and large walk-in shower.

“This _is_ pretty nice.  The firm usually books us suites when we travel to visit out-of-town clients, but for just the weekend they only reserved rooms,” I replied while hanging up our garment bags.  “I’m not knocking this though!  This is my first time staying here actually—in previous years I only came for the party.”

“Guess we’ll hafta make sure we _both_ take advantage of this opportunity then!”  He slid an arm around my waist and smiled up at me.  “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Once we finish unpacking, I figure we can go down to the hotel restaurant for dinner.  After that, there’s a movie theater a few blocks from here, and I’m sure we can find something with explosions and car chases you’ll like.  _Or_ we can come back up here and not leave that soft bed for several hours.”  I leaned down to nip at his earlobe.

“Now I _know_ you ain’t hungry right now—not after how frisky we’ve been the past week!” he protested with a laugh.

“I _am_ still quite full, but I can _never_ get enough of you!”  I started kissing a line down his neck.

He stepped back.  “Down, boy!  Like you said, we gotta unpack and eat first.  And we haven’t gone out to see a movie in a while.  We’ll have plenty of time to try out that bed later!”

After putting everything away, we went to one of the in-house restaurants for crab and shrimp dumplings, pork tenderloin for him and grilled salmon for me, with roasted heirloom carrots, twice-baked potatoes, and gnocchi on the side, accompanied by bottles of a locally-brewed IPA.  We then walked over to the movie theater for a showing of the latest _Resident Evil_ flick.  Replete with popcorn, candy, and ridiculous action sequences, we returned to our room to spend a couple hours making love before falling asleep.

I woke the next morning to Dean tugging on my hand and exclaiming, “Wakey, wakey, Sammy!  Did’ya see the shower in here?  It’s fucking _huge_!  C’mon, get up and try it out with me!”

I yawned and stretched.  I hadn’t fed much the night before, but even that little bit was enough to leave me still feeling loose-limbed and lazy.  I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and noted that it was now closer to lunchtime than breakfast.

I blinked up at him, drowsily bemused at his enthusiasm.  “Calm down, dude!  Give me a few minutes, okay?”

I stretched again before getting out of bed and ambling into the bathroom.  I relieved myself, brushed my teeth, and combed the worst of the tangles out of my hair with my fingers.  Dean was humming contentedly in the shower by this time, and the room was already beginning to steam up.

I opened the shower door and studied the other man for a moment.  He was standing with his head tilted down and the spray hitting the back of his neck.  The water had darkened his hair to a shining bronze and made his fair skin glisten, droplets clinging to his long lashes and lean muscles.  His beauty stunned me all over again, and I wondered anew at my good fortune.  He looked up at me with a smile and extended a hand.

I took it and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.  This shower wasn’t quite as big as mine at home—not that Dean would be aware of that, since he still went back to his own room to wash and dress.  But this one was still spacious enough for two people who didn’t mind getting close, and it was fitted with dual rainfall showerheads and several body jets.  The water was just shy of too hot and banished the remainder of my lethargy.

I picked up the bar of soap, lathered it up, and began rubbing it across the planes of his broad shoulders and smooth chest.  He leaned into my hands for a moment before grabbing the shampoo, squirting some in his hand, and massaging it through my hair.  As my sudsy hands worked their way down his torso, he stepped closer and curled his hands around my shoulders.  I grasped his narrow waist and bent down to fit my mouth against his and slot our members together.  He immediately moaned and rolled his hips, sliding his cock up and down against mine. 

We rocked together, and the shower stall reverberated with our groans and cries as our movements grew frantic and intense.  His breathing soon hitched, and his entire body stiffened as he climaxed.  Feeling his pleasure peak pushed me over the edge, and my seed joined his in striping our bellies.  We leaned against each while we caught our breaths, and then we leisurely finished washing each other off.

Once we got dressed (with a minimal amount of fooling around), we had a turkey reuben for me and a BLT for him for lunch at the hotel lounge.  We then walked over to a nearby Bloomingdale’s to pick up accessories to go with Dean’s evening wear.  Despite his objections over the prices, I got him a TAG Heuer watch, a Montblanc wallet, some Polo Ralph Lauren dress socks, and a David Yurman gold and onyx bracelet.  On our return to the hotel, we went to the in-house spa for a couple’s massage, followed by gentlemen’s facials and manicures—with surprisingly little grumbling from my companion—and a hot towel shave for me.

We had about an hour remaining before the start of the gala by the time we came back to our room.  Dean took his garment bag and retreated to the bathroom to change.  I was amused by his sudden shyness but didn’t stay anything.  Instead I stripped out of my casual clothes, took my tuxedo out of its bag, and carefully got dressed, starting with a plain white undershirt, black silk boxers, and black silk socks, then the white pleated-front dress shirt with silver and onyx studs and cufflinks, and followed by the black tuxedo pants and suspenders.  Next came the black patent leather shoes, black satin waistcoat, and black silk bowtie.  Lastly I donned the modern-fit black tuxedo jacket with a peaked collar and closed the top button.

I’d just added a green silk pocket square and put on a thin silver Rolex when Dean emerged from the bathroom.  He looked breathtaking—his midnight-blue tuxedo fit him exquisitely, his emerald brocade tie was skillfully fastened in a Trinity knot, and his dark gold hair was elegantly parted on the side and swept back.  The fragrance of Dior cologne was layered over his heady omega scent.  He ducked his head when he noticed my admiring gaze.

I caught his hand and drew him close to stand in front of the full-length mirror with me.  “Take a good look at yourself, Dean.  Do you know how _stunning_ you are right now?  I almost wish you could dress like this _all_ the time!”

I stared down at him as he studied his reflection.  His large eyes widened in surprise, and his freckled complexion flushed over his high cheekbones, while the tip of his pink tongue nervously moistened his sensuous lips.  I smiled at him encouragingly when he glanced up at me.

“Okay, dude . . . maybe you’re right.  I _do_ look kinda awesome,” he replied with an uncertain smile.  “It still feels fucking unreal though.  This damn outfit probably costs more than I make in a whole year!  I just ain’t comfortable with you spending so much on me.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and squeezed gently.  “I keep telling you, don’t worry about the money!  I’m no spendthrift, but I _can_ afford to indulge you on occasion.  It’s the _least_ I can do under the circumstances, and you deserve to have nicer things!”

“I guess.  It’s just gonna take some getting used to.”  He looked down at his polished Oxfords and fidgeted nervously.  “Are you _sure_ taking me with you is a good idea though?  These are all rich, smart, powerful people, man.  What’s someone like _me_ gonna do around ‘em?”

“You’ll be _fine_ , sweetheart!  Always remember that _you_ are brave, intelligent, funny, and _much_ nicer than most of the assholes I have to work with.  What is it you keep saying about lawyers—that we’re just large botulism bacteria in fancy suits?  So that already makes you _better_ than those guys!”  I kissed his cheek reassuringly.  He’d been a bit agitated over the past few days but brushed it off whenever I asked, and it seemed like my surmise that he was nervous about the gala was correct.

He blushed again at the endearment and leaned into the kiss for a moment before straightening his shoulders and eyeing me up and down.  “You’re looking pretty fine yourself, Sammy!  I mean, you always look good in the suits you wear to work, but this tux is _nice_!  So . . . are we ready to go?”

“Give me a few more minutes, and then we can head downstairs.”  I headed to the bathroom to brush my hair and apply some cologne myself, and then we left.

Cocktail hour had already begun by the time we entered the ballroom.  A good number of my colleagues and their guests, and a few of our most valued clients as well, were already there, all dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns.  Waiters circulated with glasses of wine and champagne and trays of hors d’oeuvres, and an open bar to one side was doing a brisk business in beer, spirits, and mixed drinks.  Musicians at the far end of the room provided a soothing background of classical music.

I noticed Lenore and Charlie had already claimed a table and made a beeline for them, with Dean in tow.  On our way over, I snagged two champagne flutes from a passing waiter, while Dean managed to fill a plate with beef tartare on crostini, hamachi crudo with white soy sauce and avocado wasabi mousse, ham and manchego cheese fritters with paprika aoli, elk meatballs with smoked tomato jam and whipped ricotta, and a selection of charcuterie and artisanal cheeses. 

Lenore rose and kissed my cheek and then Dean’s.  “I’m very glad you decided to come, Dean!  This is the first time in _years_ that Sam’s actually been excited to come to this thing.  And you both look _so_ good together!”

Charlie gave me a quick hug before pulling Dean down to sit beside her.  “I’m grateful you’re here ‘cause we can now try to avoid the stuffed shirts together!  There are a few people here who aren’t complete creeps, but most of ‘em . . . well, they’re _lawyers_!”

“Hey, your wife and I resemble that remark!” I protested as I took a seat on Dean’s other side and handed him a glass. 

He snickered and then pushed the plate of appetizers between us.  “You’d think you’d be used to lawyer jokes by now, man!  The food and booze seem to be decent so far, but what else does this shindig have to offer?”

Charlie launched into a colorful description of previous company parties, with Lenore occasionally reining her in when she got too fanciful.  I looked around the room and caught sight of another friend.  He nodded to acknowledge my wave and walked over a couple minutes later.

“Dean, this is David Lassiter, who works at the DA’s office.  He and I met a couple of years ago when I was working on a _pro bono_ case.  And his family owns this hotel, among other businesses in the city.  David, this is my boyfriend, Dean Winchester,” I said.

David smiled warmly and extended a hand.  “Boyfriend, huh?  You must be something special, Dean.  Most of us have been trying to convince Sam to find a nice guy and settle down for _years_!”

I caught Dean’s wrist as he started to reach out.  “Your ring, Dean.  David’s a shapeshifter.”

Dean quickly removed his silver ring and then shook David’s hand.  “Sorry ‘bout that—forgot I had it on!  Pleased to meetcha though.  Your family owns this hotel?  I guess then that the waiters and everyone else working at this gala are part of the community?”

The shifter nodded.  “All of the staff here are, which is one of the reasons why Sam’s firm holds their celebrations at our hotel—there’s less security concerns, and the menu can offer more . . . um, diverse options.  I’ve been making some slow progress in convincing my family to switch over to more humane sources for the community-specific food items, so everything available tonight should be cruelty-free.”

“Persuading the community to move away from the Market and similar practices would be much easier if more members do what you did and lived among regular people for a while,” Lenore commented.  “Then maybe more of them would understand that kidnapping and slaughtering other sentient beings is wrong.”

“In theory, yes, but I suspect a lot of them would be reluctant to leave the safety and convenience of the community, even just to go to college like I did,” David responded.  “Anyway, this probably isn’t the best venue for such a discussion.”

We chatted together on other lighter topics for a while, and then I decided to take Dean around to introduce him to more of my co-workers, taking care to steer clear of anyone who’d look down on him for _any_ reason.  I eventually left him holding court over several high-ranking members of the firm, including one of the senior partners, who all listened quite respectfully as he discussed classic car engines and restoration.

After getting a glass of wine from another server, I wandered around and chatted with various colleagues and clients, all the while keeping an eye on Dean to make sure he was doing alright.  A few of my conversation partners noticed my divided attention and asked me about the omega, and I happily talked him up.  When the time approached seven o’clock, I gathered him from his audience and returned to our table, while the wait staff cleared away the used glasses and plates.

In addition to Lenore and Charlie, we were joined at the table by a few others from our department, including Ruby.  Dean stiffened at the sight before pointedly ignoring her and turning his attention to the others.  I was nervous given her previous interaction with him and hoped she’d conduct herself better tonight—if not for the sake of our friendship, then at least so as to not look bad in front of our associates.

The waiters soon came around with bowls of roasted tomato bisque with brioche croutons or minestrone soup with mushrooms, cranberry beans, swiss chard, and pearl pasta, and plates of mixed green harvest salad with golden balsamic vinaigrette.  Next came pan-seared chicken roulade with truffle stuffing, parmesan polenta, and asparagus or Chilean sea bass with sunchoke puree, braised baby leeks, and glazed baby carrots.  This was followed by New York strip steak with cauliflower gratin, charred peppers, and wilted spinach or lamb chops with apricot purée, sweet potato, and grilled Brussel sprouts.  Each course was paired with a carefully-chosen premium wine.  Dessert consisted of a selection of tiramisu with coffee ice cream and chocolate tuile, pumpkin mont blanc with chocolate crème brûlée and chocolate-almond meringue, blackberry pâte de fruit with pinenut shortbread and buttermilk mousse, or spiced carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and candied walnuts, accompanied by coffee, cognac, cordials, and dessert wines.

Dean and I picked a different dish for each course and then shared them, which our dining companions declared was disgustingly cute.  Dean speculated on how some of the dishes were prepared with Michelle Montgomery, my friend Jack’s wife who was a bit of a foodie—a somewhat ironic hobby for the spouse of a man trying not to become a rugaru.  A couple of the others discussed the upcoming award ceremony, while the rest of us talked about more casual subjects like sports and video games.  Ruby fortunately decided to behave herself and didn’t direct any digs towards Dean, other than a couple spiteful glances.

Eventually the waiters took away the dessert plates and brought another round of drinks, including glasses of champagne for everyone.  After the wait staff retired, the lights were dimmed except over a podium in a front corner of the ballroom.  Two of the senior partners rose and moved behind the podium, where one tapped on the microphone to gain their audience’s attention. 

Once the room had quieted, the partners gave a short speech extolling the progress the firm had earned over the past year and handed out awards for particular accomplishments.  I was called up twice, first to accept a plaque for my department’s successes and then to receive a certificate for my personal contributions.  Dean beamed when I resumed my seat, particularly after the second time.  The partners next announced promotions, transfers, and anniversaries for various employees, who came up to accept congratulations and tokens in the case of the anniversaries.  Lastly they gave out the percentages for the annual bonuses by department and position and stated that the amounts would be deposited with our next paychecks.  They ended the ceremony with a toast to the firm, its employees, and its clients.

Dean leaned over to give me a congratulatory kiss and murmured in my ear, “Do I wanna know how fat that next check is gonna be, dude?”

“I can show you the stub when I get it, if you really want.  But suffice it to say that you don’t need to worry about the money I spent on you recently!” I replied.

After the senior partners left the podium, the lights over that corner dimmed, and those over the dance floor were raised instead.  The nearby musicians began to play a stately waltz, and a number of couples left their seats to dance.  I waited until we finished our champagne before standing and holding a hand out to the omega.  He followed me onto the edge of the dance floor, where we clasped one pair of hands, placed the other on our partner’s waist, and moved together in a slow waltz.  We continued through a number of dances, including Viennese waltz, tango, quickstep, and bolero.  This wasn’t as exhilarating as our experience at the club last week, but there was still something breathtaking about how effortlessly graceful Dean moved with me across the floor.

“Where did you learn ballroom dancing so well?” I asked when we returned to our table.

“A friend of mine in high school, Rhonda Hurley, and I took lessons to impress the other kids at prom.”  He smiled in reminiscence.  “I also filled in for one of the regular instructors at a dance studio for a few weeks a coupla years back.  I guess the moves came back to me out there!”

“You were _stunning_ on the dance floor, and not only because of how gorgeous you look tonight!  I felt a few envious eyes on us out there!”  I slipped a hand under his jacket.  “Are you ready to retire for the night yet?”

He nodded, and we made our farewells to Lenore and the others.  We managed to maintain our decorum on the way up to our room but started kissing the moment we were inside.  I pulled him to a stop in front of the mirror and once again turned him to face it.  I unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and pushed it open, then did the same with his vest.  Next I slowly unknotted his tie, leaving the ends dangling around his neck, and undid the buttons on his shirt and tugged it loose from his pants.  He wasn’t wearing an undershirt, so I slid my hands from his waist up his bare chest.

“I’ve been looking forward to ravishing you in this tuxedo all evening, Dean!  I want you to keep your eyes on the mirror so you can see how you look like this!” I purred before bending my head to kiss his neck, keeping my own eyes on our reflections.

He moaned and leaned his head back on my shoulder but kept his eyes fixed on the mirror.  I caressed his torso for a couple minutes, running my hands over his taut abdomen, lean sides, and sculpted chest and toying with his pert nipples.  My lips grazed down his neck to the juncture with his shoulder, where I proceeded to place a love mark on the smooth skin there.  I then unfastened his pants, reached into his boxer-briefs, and pulled out his erect cock. 

I began stroking it slowly, watching his face in the mirror as his fair complexion reddened, his lush mouth fell open to pant, and his long-lashed eyelids dropped halfway closed.  I gradually sped up, sliding my hand up and down his shaft and twisting it over his glans repeatedly.  He was soon bucking his hips and whining, and before much longer he stiffened and ejaculated all over my fingers.  I licked my hand clean of his salty cum and then turned him around to kiss him ardently.

Still kissing, I walked him backward to the bed and pushed him down, leaving his legs dangling over the side.  I knelt between them, pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles, and glanced at his member, still half-aroused and stiffening further under the effects of my saliva.  I then raised my eyes and caught his heated gaze.

“I want to put my mouth on you, baby.  Is that . . . Can I do that?” I asked softly.

“Ye—yeah, Sammy.  Go ahead!”  Dean dropped his head back onto the mattress.

I rose up on my knees and breathed on the head of his cock before taking it in my mouth.  I sucked on it like a lollipop and tongued at the slit for a while, then swallowed him all the way down to the base.  He gasped and arched his back, his hands fisting in the comforter.  I placed an arm over his pelvis to keep it down and bobbed my head up and down his length, swirling my tongue along the soft skin there.  With my other hand, I gently tugged on his sac and rolled his testicles between my fingers.  He cursed and mewled at the overload of sensation, and one of his hands shifted to tangle its fingers in my hair. 

I continued to lave attention to his member with my mouth, alternating between engulfing his whole shaft and pulling up to suckle his head and lap at his frenulum, and to his balls with my fingers, fondling them and running my nails along his scrotum and the sensitive skin around it.  He tugged harder on my hair as his passion rose and eventually shot his load into my mouth with a shout.  I swallowed his seed and stood, then opened my pants and pushed them and my boxers down to mid-thigh.  I gripped my cock and jerked it rapidly while watching his debauched expression and listening to his heavy breathing.  I soon reached my climax and striped his groin and belly.

I staggered into the bathroom and retrieved a damp washcloth to clean myself up.  I also quickly set a modified version of the containment spell on the entire hotel room, as I had the previous night.  I returned to the bedroom to swab Dean’s skin before tossing the cloth back into the bathroom.  He got up as well, and we languidly helped each other completely disrobe, laying our formalwear out on the armchairs in the corner to be put away properly later.  We then collapsed on the bed, pulled the covers up, and curled up around each other.  I felt quite indolent after my orgasm and feeding lightly on both of his.

“Man, that was fucking _awesome_!  Now I see why dudes love blowjobs so much!” he commented in a pleased voice.

I looked at him in surprise.  “You’ve _never_ had oral sex?”

“Never been on the receiving end.  Like I said before, the assholes I was forced to be with back then didn’t give a shit ‘bout _my_ enjoyment,” he replied bitterly.  “So just ‘bout everything we’ve done together has been a new experience for me.”

I gave him a comforting squeeze.  “Sorry to bring up those memories.  I’m even more grateful that you’ve been so open and brave with me.  Did you enjoy the gala?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad for a party thrown by a buncha stuck-up sharks in suits.  I assume you kept any of the real douchebags away, which I appreciate.  Your firm certainly knows how to wine and dine everyone, I gotta say.  But the best part of tonight has been the happy ending!” he said with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter went up so late, but I fell a bit behind in my writing this past week. The writing for the next chapter should hopefully go quicker. No spoilers, but the next chapter or two will feature a big confrontation and shakeup to the boys' relationship that I've been planning for a while. Dun dun DUN . . .
> 
> The food served at the gala was taken from the menus of various Ritz-Carlton hotel locations. The ballroom dancing scene obviously wasn't as hot as at the club last week, but I hope it was still enjoyable. The mention of Dean surrounded by powerful lawyers hanging on his every word as he discussed cars was inspired by the similar scene from Firefly (1.06 Shindig), where Kaylee was surrounded by nobles listening to her talk about starship engines. I was tempted to include at least one encounter with one of Sam's colleagues reacting badly to Dean's presence but ultimately decided to keep the gala as a pleasant experience. 
> 
> As you might be able to tell, I have a thing for dressing our boys up whenever possible. For another story featuring the boys being very sexy in tuxedos, I recommend checking out The World's a Beast of Burden by Colette_Capricious.
> 
> You may have also noticed that I have added a series title to this work. This story is mostly focused on Sam's and Dean's developing relationship, but there are other major themes, such as the Market and other issues in the community, that I want to deal with as well. Rather than including them all in the same story, which I feel would make it too drawn-out and unwieldy, I've decided to turn this into a series with at least one more story after this one. Since the title of this story is a Metallica song from their 1992 self-titled album which is also known as the Black Album, I decided to name the series after that.
> 
> My last chemo treatment got postponed to this Friday due to a low platelet count, which is why this update wasn't posted yesterday (besides not being done yet!). Assuming my blood work has improved by Friday, the next chapter will be posted on Sunday evening before I go to my parents' house for the week. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of past child physical and sexual abuse and past rape. Nothing is described graphically, but please be careful if this could still upset you.

Something was bothering Dean.  It had started the morning after the gala, when I woke to find him quietly distressed.  When questioned, he asked if I was upset or dissatisfied with him for some reason.  After assuring him with my lips and hands that I was _quite_ happy with him, his mood seemed improved. 

But over the course of the following couple of weeks, I frequently caught him exuding either melancholy or resentment when he thought my attention wasn’t on his state of mind.  Whenever I tried to inquire into what was disturbing him, he either found a way to dismiss or deflect my concerns, or he attributed it to his usual complaint of feeling trapped in the apartment.  I made an effort to take him out more—to the shops downstairs, the club, various restaurants, and more—to little overall effect.

This had even begun to affect our sex life.  He never turned me down outright, but there were several nights where we did little more than sleep together because his disposition wasn’t conducive to lovemaking, and I of course didn’t want to pressure him into intimacy.  The lack wasn’t yet enough to affect my hunger in a significant manner, and besides which my concern was more for his emotional state than my need.  I recognized that this was more a troubling symptom than a problem in and of itself.

It didn’t help that the over past few days, I’d been completely swamped at work with a huge case, to the point of repeatedly coming home several hours late.  I’d called Charlie the first time it happened so she could go over and tell Dean before he freaked out, and then warned him myself when I finally got home that this might keep going for a little while.  As a result, I hadn’t been able to pay him the proper amount of attention lately that he clearly needed.  But the case was now finished, and I was leaving work early today to surprise him.  I planned to take him out this evening for a picnic in the park to hopefully lighten his mood, and if necessary I was prepared to take the rest of the week off in order to get to the bottom of his troubles.

There was no sign of the omega in the main living area of the apartment when I got home, nor could I see him out on the terrace.  On my way to my bedroom to change, I checked in his workshop but found the room empty.  I noticed that the door to his bedroom was open and peered inside, thinking a quick peek wouldn’t be a violation of his privacy.  No one was there, so I started to turn away.  Then something caught my eye, and I almost reluctantly entered his room.

Scattered on the surface of his desk were his iPod and a broken clock-radio which had been stashed in the storage room for ages, both partially disassembled, and components from a couple of his robotics kits, as well as pliers, wire cutters, and other tools.  I was hardly an electronics expert, but it was still fairly obvious that the half-built mechanism in the middle was supposed to be some kind of communication device, and that he’d been working on it for at least a day or two.  The fact that he was assembling it in here, the one room which didn’t have any surveillance, made it clear that this wasn’t an innocent repair job or other project.

I staggered back a step, rocked by first shock and then rage.  I _trusted_ him, and he repaid me by trying to escape?  How long had he been planning this?  How long had he been _lying_ to me?  As my temper increased, the control on my shape loosened—I felt my outline grow larger, darker, hazier, with the suggestion of horns and wings sweeping up from my brow and back.

“ _Shit!_   You—you’re back early!”  I whirled around to see Dean standing in the doorway, wires and batteries in his hands and consternation on his face.

I advanced on him, claws and fangs extended, and snarled, “How long?  How long have you been planning to _betray_ me?  Was all of this simply a _lie_?”

His eyes went wide and his skin paled at his first sight of my true form.  Incubi might not inspire the same level of terrifying legends as vampires, werewolves, and demons, but we were still one of the reasons man learned to fear the dark.  He retreated until his back hit the wall of the hallway behind him.

Instead of running, he then set his jaw and lifted his chin.  “If you’re gonna kill me now, just make it quick.”

His words, and more importantly the fear washing over me, caused me to flinch back.  He’d _never_ been afraid of me before, not since the very early days of our acquaintance, and feeling it now shocked me out of much of my wrath.  I stepped back and, after a momentary struggle, resumed my human semblance.

“I’m sorry . . . I—I’m not going to hurt you.”  I raised my hands in a nonthreatening manner.  “But I don’t understand!  What _happened_?  Everything has been going so well between us!  I—I thought . . . Why are you trying to _escape_?  Is it . . . is it because of your heat?”

He swallowed before shaking his head.  “No, this ain’t ‘bout my goddamn _heat_.  There ain’t no running from _that_ now—it’s probably too late to even go back on the suppressants.  My best bet is to work out a way to beat this _with_ you, and I know that.

“And this ain’t ‘bout fucking _escaping_ either.  I _meant_ everything I told you before—I _like_ living here and being with you.  Sure, I didn’t feel that way at first—you remember how angry I was when you brought me here?  But I realized pretty quick that I couldn’t fight my way outta this mess.  So I decided to play along, pretend to be more accepting, so that you’d eventually drop your guard and gimme some kinda opening.” 

He met my eyes.  “But then the longer I was here, the less it became an _act_.  I got to know you and learned that you’re a _good_ guy . . . and that for some reason, you actually _cared_ ‘bout _me_.  Then . . . I started to care _back_ , and I eventually realized that I _don’t_ wanna leave.  I wanna _stay_ here with _you_.”

“I don’t get it then!  If you _don’t_ want to get away, then why all _this_?”  I gestured towards the desk.  “And why _now_?”

Dean stalked into the room, his hands balled into fists.  “It’s the _same_ damn thing I’ve been saying over and over since the beginning, but you _never listen_!  I can’t live in a fucking _cage_ , Sam!  I’ve been here for more than two months, and I ain’t tried to run _once_ , even though you know I’ve had plenty of chances.  I ain’t ever tried to call for help either, not since that one first time.  I’ve done _every_ goddamn thing I could to get you to _trust_ me, to _believe_ in me, but I’ve just gotten _shit_ in return!

“When you said you wanted me to be your boyfriend, I was so happy and excited.  I thought that _meant_ something to you, that things were _finally_ gonna be different between us.  But that concept apparently means _jack-shit_ to you!  D’ya have _any_ idea how I felt when I got up the morning after that damn party just to go get some ice and found you’d put up that fucking _spell_ on our hotel room?  Or that you _still_ won’t let me go downstairs by myself even _once_ to the café or a suit fitting or whatever?  Or that you won’t stop watching me on those goddamn cameras or ‘supervising’ my phone calls and emails like I’m a _criminal_?

“That’s when I figured out that _nothing’s_ ever gonna change here, at least not if I leave it up to _you_.  You keep _saying_ that I’m your priority, that I’m more important to you than the community, but those are just goddamn _words_.  The truth is that you don’t want a boyfriend—you only want a fucking _pet_!” he shouted.

“Now wait a goddamn minute!  That’s _not_ true, and you should know it!  I’ve tried to do my best by you, and I’ve _never_ treated you like a piece of property!” I retorted indignantly.

“ _Bullshit_!  You fucking control _everything_ in my life!  I don’t got a _single_ thing of my own ‘cept with your permission—even the shit I have from before is only ‘cause you _let_ me have ‘em.  I only interact with the people _you_ choose for me to meet, and it’s always when and where _you_ want—even talking to Bobby is only when _you_ allow.  I can’t leave this apartment unless you come with me, and it’s only to places _you_ decide are acceptable.  Hell, you control if I _live or die_ —you could beat me, rape me, even kill me, and there’s not a single _goddamn_ thing I can do to stop you!  You think a bunch of soft words and nice things are _ever_ gonna make me forget that?”  He turned away, his chest heaving.

“So you thought building some kind of radio to call in a _hunter_ , to bring him _here_ of all places, so that he could help you get _rid_ of me, was the solution to your problems?” I asked incredulously.  “It never occurred to you to just _come_ to me?”

He whirled around to glare at me.  “I ain’t making this thing to call _Bobby_ , dumbass!  I’d _never_ do anything that could get you hurt or killed—I told you that!  And for the last time, I ain’t trying to _leave_!  The plan was to contact someone here in the city who could help me—in fact, I was gonna try to get in touch with  _Ash_.  I just wanna find a way to break the _spell_ , to get some control back over my _own_ damn life!

“And I _did_ come to you multiple times to tell you what was fucking wrong!  And each time you thought I was just bitching and moaning and brushed me off.  Told me to be _patient_ , to follow the _rules_ ,” he sneered.  “D’ya know that following the fucking rules still took Charlie over _three years_ to get the collar off, even without the issues I got?  But at least she wasn’t locked up like a goddamn _prisoner_ the whole time!”

“I’m not trying to keep you imprisoned, Dean!  I’m keeping you _safe_!”

“I don’t need to be protected, dammit—not by you or anyone else!  I was on my own for nearly _ten_ years before this and took care of myself just _fine_.  That included fending off _plenty_ of bastards who wanted to do all sorts of nasty shit to me.  The only reason I can’t defend myself right now is _you_!” he cried out in frustration.  “You _know_ I ain’t some fucking damsel in distress who needs to be locked up in a damn tower.  The _real_ reason you’re keeping such a tight grip on me is that despite everything I’ve done, everything we’ve been through, you don’t _trust_ me!”

I snapped, “That’s pretty rich coming from _you_!  Trust is a two-way street, you know.  I’ve been trying since the beginning to help you deal with your past, but you won’t tell me _anything_ about it!  How are we supposed to overcome this trauma together if I don’t know _what it is_?  So don’t talk to me about _trust_ when you refuse to confide in me about something so fucking _important_!”

“You _really_ wanna know what happened?  Then listen up, ‘cause this is the _only_ time you’re ever gonna hear it!” he replied furiously.  “I was four fucking years old when my mom was killed, leaving my dad with a toddler and a six-month-old baby.  He was never a great father or husband to begin with—I remember him and Mom fighting, him leaving, me trying to comfort her ‘til he came back.  But John was _much_ worse after she was gone.  He got obsessed with booze and revenge, which left me to take care of Sammy and myself.  Whenever he got pissed or drunk, whenever I didn’t do a good enough job, whenever shit didn’t go his way, he took it out on me with his fists.  He _hated_ me ‘cause I reminded him too much of _her_.

“I spent _years_ covering his shit up—explaining away his absences, coming up with excuses for my bruises and broken bones, hiding how skinny I got when there wasn’t enough to go around.  But it was worth it to keep Sammy safe and healthy.  ‘Til one day I fucked up, and CPS took my baby brother away.  John beat me within an inch of my life when he found me, and then he told me that omegas were only good for two fucking things.  Since I couldn’t take care of his kid anymore, he was gonna get some use outta me the _other_ way.  Next thing I knew, he was forcing me to suck him off.”

As I tried to get my shock and revulsion under control, he continued in a flat, deadened voice.  “For the next two years, on top of smacking me around whenever he felt like it, he made me touch him, blow him, and shit like that nearly every goddamn day.  And I had to do the same with the other sonsofbitches he brought around whenever he was low on cash or needed a favor.  I had to do every nasty thing with him and with those others but actual fucking.  I was only ‘spared’ _that_ ‘cause he knew he’d get a better price if I was technically still a virgin when I was old enough to marry off.  I couldn’t run or tell anyone, not even Bobby—John swore that he’d kill anyone I talked to or ran to for help, and I knew he was deadly fucking serious.

“Finally he left me alone this one time for a few days while he checked out a lead.  I brought a friend over to our motel room to tutor him in algebra, this boy I'd kinda developed a crush on—he was one of the few at school willing to be nice to me.  I . . . I didn’t realize at the time that my first heat was coming on . . . and we started kissing.  I didn’t _plan_ to do anything—it was just I’d hardly ever been touched with kindness or affection for _years_ , not since Sammy was taken.”  He paused to swallow thickly.

“My da—John came home early and caught me and Kyle together.  We hadn’t gone past kissing and some light petting, but he was fucking angrier than I’d _ever_ seen.  He started roaring that we were stealing from him, damaging his property, shit like that, and he picked up a crowbar.  I—I don’t remember the next part well—they say he bludgeoned Kyle to death pretty quickly.  He beat me real bad too but didn’t kill me . . . but he soon made me _wish_ he had.  He ripped my clothes off and r—raped me over and over and _over_ again.  When he couldn’t get it up himself, he used the crowbar or his pistol or—or other stuff.  I—I lost track of all the things he did an—and how often he did ‘em.

“John assaulted me for nearly two days—it took the cops that long to find us ‘cause Kyle hadn’t told his parents where he was going.  By that time, I’d passed into a coma from the beating and blood loss and shit, and it took me more than three months to wake up.  I missed my sixteenth birthday, Kyle’s funeral, and John’s trial while in the hospital.  Bobby took me in after that—he was the first face I saw when I came outta the coma, and he was the only person left who gave a damn ‘bout me.  I spent _months_ afterwards with doctors, physical therapists, counselors, and all sorts of other specialists.  Ended up having to repeat my sophomore year, and it took even longer to get back to anywhere _close_ to normal.”

Dean looked up at me, his face streaked with tears.  “D’ya know what the _worst_ fucking part of the attack was?  Worse than _all_ the pain, the fear, the disgust, the guilt?  It was my body _betraying_ me, making me _get off_ on what he was doing to me because of the damn hormones!  _That’s_ why I avoided my goddamn heats for so long, why I’ve been so _terrified_ of ‘em.  And why it took _years_ before I could handle even a _casual_ touch.

“And d’ya know that I ain’t talked ‘bout this shit even _once_ since I got away from the damn shrinks?  But keeping all this to myself _ain’t_ ‘bout fucking trust issues—I just don’t wanna _think_ ‘bout these memories anymore _or_ deal with everyone goddamn looking down on me like I’m _pathetic_ and _weak_ again.  So _fuck you_ for making me bring it up now!  Guess all those words ‘bout not forcing me to do anything were bullshit too, huh?”  He turned toward the window and swiped angrily at his wet cheeks.

Shame, horror, and concern had by now completely overwhelmed my earlier anger.  “Dean, I’m _so_ sorry!  You’re right—I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.  But . . . I _am_ glad I do know now.  Gods!  I—I’d guessed that what’d happened was _bad_ , but what your father _actually_ did to you . . .”

He stiffened.  “Fuck off, Sam!  I don’t need you to feel fucking _sorry_ for me!”

“That’s _not_ it, man!  I’m _horrified_ by what you went through, of course— _any_ decent person would be.  But I _don’t_ pity you—far from it, in fact!  I told you before that I was _amazed_ at your strength and resilience for surviving something terrible and emerging with such an indomitably bright spirit, and _that_ hasn’t changed.  Now that I know the truth, I’m even _more_ humbled that you’ve let me in as much as you have and given me so much,” I said, reaching out toward his shoulder.

He flinched and stepped away.  “ _Right_!  You just went from being ready to claw the shit outta me to suddenly concerned ‘bout my feelings _all_ on your own.  Pitying the poor, broken little omega had _nothing_ to do with it!”

“Are . . . are you _afraid_ of me now, Dean?  You—you don’t really think I’d _hurt_ you?” I asked in dismay, dropping my hand.  “I’d _never_ do anything like that!  You _know_ that, right?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder.  “I _used_ to think I was safe with you.  But you just Hulked out and came after me not but a few minutes ago!  And those claws and fangs weren’t there to give me a fucking hug!”

“I—I was just going to grab you, maybe shake you a little.  I _wasn’t_ going to attack you!” I protested.

Dean raised a disbelieving brow.  “Uh huh.  Even if that were true, what ‘bout the _next_ time you lose your shit on me?  I’m supposed to just _accept_ that you might decide to maul me and not be able to do a _damn_ thing to stop you?”

“I swear to you that I would never, _ever_ intentionally cause you harm!  I’ve hardly _ever_ lost control like that throughout my whole life, and I . . . I should’ve reined in my temper when I felt it slip earlier.  Regardless, I’ve only ever assaulted another person in defense of myself or others—I’ve _never_ injured anyone simply in anger.  I hope you can believe me,” I said.

“Assuming I’m willing to buy _anything_ you’re saying right now—both about the pity _and_ the attack—that don’t change the fundamental problem here.  You _say_ you want me to be your boyfriend, but you won’t _do_ anything about it!  You _still_ refuse to trust me or treat me like an equal, despite all your pretty words.  You don’t respect me as a _person_ , not like you would an actual member of your damn community.  And I’m fucking _tired_ of pretending that I’m okay with feeling no better than an _animal_ in a kennel.”  He faced me and crossed his arms.

“But that’s _not_ what I’ve been doing!”

He snorted derisively.  “Dude, fucking _Juliet_ has more freedom than I do!  You might feel good ‘bout yourself ‘cause you don’t keep me in an actual cage or feed me kibble in private, and ‘cause you take me out and play nice in public—but it don’t make what you’re doing to me _right_.  You don’t keep your boyfriend locked up in your house, only taking him out when you feel like it.  You don’t put your boyfriend under constant surveillance, waiting for him to do something you don’t like.  You don’t separate your boyfriend from his family and friends, only letting him contact ‘em on your terms.  And you don’t fucking try to _gaslight_ your boyfriend into thinking you’re doing this shit for his own good!

“So what _are_ you, Sam—are you my lover or my prison guard?  ‘Cause you can’t have it both ways, not anymore.  I’m _done_ with this goddamn charade.  If you just want a pet, then kill me and buy some other poor sonofabitch from the Market who’ll put up with this bullshit.  But if you _actually_ want me in your life, then you need to stop controlling _mine_.  That means no more locks, no more cameras, no more spell.  Either you trust me, or you lose me.  Until you decide, get outta my fucking room.”  He pointed at the door, his eyes cold.

I took a few steps, then turned in the doorway.  “What do _you_ want, Dean?”

He laughed bitterly.  “Like _that’s_ ever mattered to anyone in my damn life!”

“It matters to _me_.  It always has,” I replied softly.

Dean hesitated before answering.  “What I want . . . is to be truly _happy_ for once.  Not fucked up by my past, not judged ‘cause of my designation, not worried ‘bout how to get through the next day.  To feel safe and loved and good ‘bout myself.  For a while, I _thought_ I’d found that here, when I thought that you really _cared_ ‘bout me.

“But I don’t get to have what I _want_.  The best I can do is to get what I _need_.  So I’m gonna find a way _outta_ this mess, with or without you.  Whether I come back, whether I stay—that’s up to you.”

The door closed in my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is obviously based on the similar scene in Wrapped in Honey when Dean attempts to call for help. The mechanics of the attempt here had to be changed--the high-rise apartment precluded the use of an R/C car, and the privacy screen on the terrace ruled out flying devices as well. Plus Dean didn't want to contact some random person who could potentially wind up getting him or Sam in serious trouble. Another significant change was Dean's reaction after being caught. I never cared for how suddenly apologetic and even grovelling he became in the original story, even though he wasn't in the wrong. I suppose this might've been meant as the beginnings of Stockholm Syndrome there, but that's not how I want my version of Dean to play out. My Sam's reactions will be different as well, as you'll see in the next couple of chapters.
> 
> I hope that the escape attempt and subsequent confrontation didn't seem like it came out of left field. Dean has been keeping much of his thoughts and emotions close to the vest until now, but I tried to still drop hints here and there that he wasn't completely content or accepting of his situation. As I mentioned in the previous chapter's notes, this scene has been planned in my head since nearly the very beginning of the story, and I was just waiting for the right time to insert it. Was Dean perhaps overly harsh with Sam? Probably, but the boyfriend thing--specifically the lack of the changes he was hoping for--really hurt him and pushed him over the edge. Poor Sam, who's guilty more of obliviousness than any malicious intent, has his work cut out for him though if he's going to mend their relationship.
> 
> What wasn't planned was including the reveal of Dean's past trauma in this scene. Originally I assumed it would come up later but wasn't sure when or how. But as I was writing this chapter, it felt natural to add it here--Dean was already upset and emotionally vulnerable, so it seemed he'd more likely to let his verbal guard slip and let loose his dark secret. It also makes the reveal different than the one in WiH, since I don't want to copy the original story too closely if I can help it.
> 
> My apologies to any fans of John Winchester for how he's portrayed here. I personally am not a fan and think he was a great hunter but lousy father who neglected his sons and let his obsession with revenge take priority over their well-being. Despite that, I don't believe he was ever physically abusive and definitely not sexually abusive to either of his kids. Neither Sam nor Dean have ever shown signs of fear of John or other symptoms of those kinds of abuse. But John's physical abuse of Dean was a central theme in Wrapped in Honey, and I added the sexual abuse and rape to explain my Dean's extreme intimacy issues and panicked aversion to his heats.
> 
> This was a pretty good week--I had my last chemo treatment on Friday, and I managed to write 2 chapters for this story. I'm looking forward to getting the chemo side effects out of my system over the next few weeks. I still have other types of treatments to go through, but their effects shouldn't be as bad. This chapter is being posted before I go to my parents' house for the week, but the next chapter should go up the following Monday as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	21. Chapter 21

I walked slowly into my bedroom, dazed by how suddenly everything seemed to have gone wrong.  As I changed out of my suit, I tried to figure out what to do.  I soon realized my first step was to talk to someone.  Dean was obviously out, assuming he was willing to even see me.  I needed someone who’d understand the situation but who’d be more objective.  That made the choice pretty clear.

I went back out to the hallway and knocked on the other man’s door.  “Dean?  I—I’m going out for a little while.  I’m just going to talk to Lenore.  I . . . I’ll be back soon.”

I waited for a couple of minutes, but there was no response.  I sighed and left the apartment.  Lenore’s nest owned a block of brownstones just outside of the downtown district.  After a twenty-minute drive, I parked in front of the central townhouse and knocked on the door.

The vampire who answered looked pleasantly surprised.  “Hey Sam, long time no see!  You here to see Lenore, Benny, or Charlie?”

“Hi, Len.  I was hoping to talk to Lenore if she’s free,” I replied.  “How are things going at work?”

“Same old, same old.  Me and Benny are working nights as usual, so he’s around here too right now.  Oh, he mentioned that the asswipe you had that run-in with did accept the plea-bargain.  So no need for a trial, and he won’t be hassling anyone for a while,” he said while opening the door the rest of the way and beckoning me in.  “Lenore’s not home from work yet though.  You want to hang out with Benny until she gets in?  He’s in the den.”

I nodded and made my way to the den, where I found Benny in the middle of a Netflix binge.  “ _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , dude?  Isn’t that like some form of masochism for you guys?”

He grinned up at me.  “Don’t knock the Slayer, chief!  And always remember, Joss Whedon is a _god_.  You want a beer or something?”

“Not right now—I’m afraid I’m not exactly in the mood to socialize at the moment,” I said as I sat on the sofa next to him.

He looked me over.  “You ain’t looking so good, old man.  What’s up?  Trouble in paradise?”

I sighed.  “You have _no_ idea!  But I’d rather wait until Lenore gets here—I don’t want to explain this twice.”

“She shouldn’t be long—no more than half an hour, I reckon.  Charlie’s not around—she’s at some gaming convention with friends ‘til Sunday.  So you’re stuck with me for the moment.”  He leaned back against the sofa.  “If you don’t wanna talk yet, I get it.  The musical episode is up next—maybe it’ll help ease your mind, at least for a little bit.”

I settled in to try to watch the show but simply couldn’t concentrate on it.  Fortunately for my nerves, Lenore arrived less than twenty minutes later.  Benny got up to intercept her before she went upstairs and led her into the den. 

She sat down in the recliner and looked at me quizzically.  “Benny says you need to talk to me—something about problems at home?  What’s the matter?”

I dropped my face into my hands.  “Everything’s fallen apart with Dean all of a sudden!  And I need to figure out how to fix this _soon_.  I figured you’d understand the best and have invaluable insight to offer, since yours and Charlie’s situation was similar to ours.”

“Of course I’ll do whatever I can to help,” she said soothingly.  “I’m sure Benny will as well, if he has any advice to offer.  Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell us what happened?”

I lifted my head and tried to organize my thoughts.  “I first noticed that Dean was upset about something the morning after the gala.  Actually, that’s not correct—he was acting agitated a few days before as well, but I thought he was just nervous about the party.  The problem _really_ started back when I first told him about it and asked him to come with me.  He wanted to know why I wanted to bring him, and I told him I’d like him there as my boyfriend.  I—I didn’t realize that calling him that gave him . . . _expectations_ that certain things would be different.  So he was hurt when they didn’t change.”

“What sorta things?” Benny asked.

“Dropping the containment spell and camera surveillance, letting him go out on his own, things like that,” I replied somewhat defensively.  “He specifically got upset that morning when he discovered I’d cast the spell on our hotel room to keep him in.  But he didn’t explain about what was bothering him when I got up—he just asked if I wasn’t satisfied with him.  He seemed better after I . . . um, _convinced_ him otherwise, so I didn’t think anything more of it at the time.”

Lenore shook her head.  “Oh, _Sam_.  Alright, keep going.”

“Anyways, so I started to notice over the following couple of weeks that his overall mood had worsened.  He was frequently angry or sad about something—and as a result less affectionate than before.  But I couldn’t get a clear explanation out of him on what was wrong whenever I asked, and it didn’t help when I got swamped with that stupid case a few days ago.  Today I left early with the intent to spend time with Dean and figure out what was wrong.  When I got home and looked for him, I . . . caught him in the middle of trying to build some kind of radio to call for help.”

I paused and looked down in shame before continuing.  “I’m afraid I lost my temper and therefore lost control of my human form.  I started to go after him—I know I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I _wasn’t_ planning to hurt him.  But Dean thought I was going to _kill_ him, and for the first time in months, he was _afraid_ of me!  I managed to get myself back under control and asked him _why_ he was trying to leave.

“He said he didn’t want to _escape_ , just get help getting rid of the spell.  He felt that he deserved some trust and consideration after not trying to run or anything like that for so long and was tired of waiting.  He then told me how upset he was when he realized nothing had changed even after I’d said I considered him my boyfriend . . . and he accused me of only wanting him as a _pet_.  When I protested, he shouted how I controlled his whole life—what he owned, who he could talk to, when he could go out, and all that sort of stuff.  And that I was keeping him prisoner like this because I didn’t trust or respect him.”

Lenore inquired, “Did Dean ever try to tell you any of this before?”

“Not in so much detail, but . . . well, he did complain frequently about feeling trapped.  I guess I misunderstood and just thought he was feeling cooped up in the apartment, so I assumed taking him out more was enough.  I should’ve taken what he was _really_ saying more seriously,” I admitted.

“It gets worse though.  I got even angrier and accused him of not trusting _me_ because he wouldn’t confide in me about his past.  So he told me . . . told me _all_ of it.  I won’t go into detail without his permission.  But suffice it to say that his father abused him in pretty much every way possible, and Dean has _every_ right to all of his issues.  Gods, to think he survived all _that_ only to end up here!

“So now, in addition to thinking that I might attack him if I lose my temper again and believing that I don’t truly care for him as a lover or consider him an equal, Dean feels like I forced him to reveal his secrets and that I pity him because of his past,” I continued ashamedly.  “He ended with an ultimatum—I could treat him as my boyfriend or as my prisoner, but not both.  He’s done pretending to accept half-measures anymore.”

Benny studied me shrewdly.  “If it’s true that Dean’s been behaving himself, why _haven’t_ you lightened up the security on him at all?”

I shrugged.  “Initially, I wasn’t sure if I _could_ trust him—I didn’t know if his good behavior was feigned or not.  He did admit today that at first he intentionally acted more docile in hopes that I’d drop my guard.  But the longer we were together and the better we got to know each other, the more sincere he became.  And I think I _knew_ that, knew that he _did_ come to care for me and wanted to make what we had work. 

“I _thought_ that I was doing enough by not keeping him locked up so tightly—letting him have free use of the terrace, taking him out to safe places, letting him talk to his foster father or Charlie and his other friends here.  When it came to the restrictions I did keep on him, I tried to convince myself that they were for his safety—to protect him from community members who might mistreat him or alphas who might take advantage of him.  And that following the Council’s rules _was_ the best way to get his freedom from the collar.”

She raised a brow.  “ _Tried_ to convince yourself?  So what do you think your _true_ motivations are?”

“They _are_ partly true—I do want to keep Dean safe and see him freed as fast as possible.  But you’re right—they aren’t my _only_ reasons for keeping such a tight grip on him.”  I hunched my shoulders.  “I never really thought about it before today, but . . . now I realize I’ve been _afraid_.  Afraid that he _will_ run if I let him go, or that someone else will take him away if I don’t watch out.  And I don’t want to risk losing him.”

Lenore sat up straight and rubbed her hands briskly.  “Alright, Sam, it’s time to get straight to the point.  How do you _really_ feel about Dean?  Do you love him?  Do you want him to stay with you?”

I was startled by her bluntness and had to take a moment to answer.  “I . . . I . . . Yes, I _do_ love him, very much so!  And yes, I want him to stay and be a part of my life.”

“Good!  What do you think about his accusations?  Is there any justification there?”

I paused again before nodding slowly.  “He’s wrong about how I feel about him, but I can see why he thinks that way right now.  I haven’t been treating him the way a lover deserves.  I may have had good intentions, or at least thought I did, but he’s right—I haven’t been doing enough.  I’ve been behaving like he’s a prisoner in all the ways that are important.  And I need to make amends for that.”

“That’s what I thought.  You’re guilty of being an oblivious idiot, but you’re learning.  Now we need to figure out the best way to fix this mess,” she said firmly.  “First things first.  Do you remember when we talked after you brought Dean home?  I told you that there would come a time when you’d have to decide if you were willing to put him first and say ‘Fuck these bullshit rules.’  So, _are_ you ready to do that?”

I put my hands on my knees and took a deep breath.  “Yes, I am.  Whatever it takes to make things right.”

“It’s clear that words aren’t going to be enough.  You’ve lost his trust, at least for the moment, and he’s going to need more than apologies and declarations of feelings, no matter how sincere.  I don’t know how far into the future you were thinking before this blew up, but I _hope_ you realize you can’t keep going like this until the Council is willing to grant his freedom.  You know how long it took Charlie and me to achieve that, and _she_ didn’t have the complications of a hunter in her past or Alastair’s enmity.”  She looked at me expectantly.

“I . . . I’m afraid I wasn’t really planning too far ahead.  I was more focused on the more immediate issues, like his heat.  I guess I knew intellectually that I’d have to loosen up eventually, but I didn’t consider _when_ that would happen,” I said.

“Well, the time for that is _right now_ ,” Lenore declared.  “I understand your fears about letting go—I had them too.  If you drop your restraints on him, there _is_ a chance that Dean will leave and not come back.  But if you _don’t_ , you are _definitely_ going to lose him.  Either he’ll find a way to escape—and we know he’s ingenious enough to figure something out—or he’ll grow to hate you.  None of us want _either_ of those scenarios!

“You need to _show_ him that you trust and respect him and that you’re serious about being more than friends and casual lovers.  Obviously, _all_ the security measures you have on him need to go right away.”  She started ticking points off on her fingers.  “Drop the containment spell, get rid of the cameras—at least the ones not needed for a reasonable home defense system—and give him the same level of freedom you would’ve if he’d moved in with you under normal circumstances.  Let him leave the house whenever he wants, let him be in touch with whomever he wants, and _trust_ that he won’t abuse what you’re offering.”

“More importantly, chief, you need to give him the means to protect himself against _you_ , if you want him to stop being afraid of you,” Benny added seriously.  “We all know that boy would never hurt you.  But as long as _you_ hold all the cards, he _ain’t_ gonna let you back in.”

“Dean also needs to feel he’s not completely dependent on you for everything.  Give him an allowance or encourage him to find a job he likes, and help him open his own bank account.  Let him pay for some things, even though you don’t need him too.  He needs to feel like he’s your equal in all ways, and that includes financially,” she continued.

“I do get what you're saying, but . . . this scares me to death,” I confessed.  “What if . . . what if I do all this and he just _runs_?  Especially with how upset he's with me now!  I don't think I could handle it if—”

“Quit it, Sam!” Benny interrupted.  “You gotta _trust_ how Dean feels ‘bout you, brother!  Yeah, he might be pissed as hell right now, but underneath that he's still _crazy_ ‘bout you.  I know what his old man put him through—remember I ran his background weeks ago.  There ain't no way he woulda let you in as much as he has after all that shit if he wasn't.”

“Besides which, if you _don't_ do something different, you _will_ lose him—it's as simple as that,” Lenore added.

I was quiet for a few minutes, pondering their advice.  “This is a lot to take in, but . . . you're right.  I’ve been saying that I want to do the best I can for Dean, and it’s time I truly put my money where my mouth is.  I—I don’t want him to end up thinking I’m just another abuser.  This was never my intention, but I haven’t been behaving much better than the possessive alphas he’s spent his whole life trying to get away from, have I?”

“I’m afraid not, Sam.  I think you let _your_ alpha side get the better of you here.  But it’s not too late to change,” she said sympathetically.

I nodded.  “And I will.  Getting everything together is going to take at least a day or two though.  I . . . I’m not sure what to say to him in the meantime.”

“I think you’ll have to leave that up to him.  If he wants to talk, even if it’s only to vent his anger again, then listen and do your best to console him.  If he needs space, then don’t push him.  Don’t ignore him—let him know you’re there for him if he wants, but don’t force him into conversation,” she suggested.

I stood and said, “Thank you both for all the suggestions.  I need to head home now and get started.  I _will_ fix everything with Dean, no matter how long it takes.”

“I know you will!”  She got up and hugged me.  “Let me know how everything goes.  And feel free to ask us if you need anything else.”

“I second what Big Sis said.  Lemme walk you out, Sam.”  Benny accompanied me out onto the porch.  “You know we’re both serious ‘bout helping you.  I’ve known you a long time now, and I ain’t _ever_ seen you as happy before as in the past coupla months.  Dean’s been real good for you, and even if he don’t believe it right now, you’ve been good for him.  Don’t give up on each other, you hear?”

“I won’t.  I know he’s worth fighting for.  I really appreciate your support, buddy.”  I clapped him on the shoulder and turned to leave.

The apartment was silent when I got back.  The only indication that the omega had left his room while I was out was a plate wrapped in aluminum foil on the kitchen counter.  Peeling back the foil revealed maple-glazed pork chops, apple-cranberry coleslaw, caramelized spicy green beans, and buttermilk cornbread.  The food was still warm, indicating the plate hadn’t been sitting there long.  Heartened by this sign of consideration, I sat down and quickly ate.

After cleaning the dishes, I went into the bedroom wing and knocked on his door.  “Dean?  I’m back from talking to Lenore and Benny.  Thank you for making me dinner—it was delicious as always.  I’ll . . . I’ll be in the library if you need me.”

I waited for a couple of minutes but didn’t hear anything from within the room except muffled mullet rock.  Unsurprised by the lack of response, I sighed and moved over to the library.  There I fired up the desktop computer and began looking up what would be needed to try to fix things with Dean.  I spent the next few hours researching information, filling out paperwork, and making calls. 

Eventually I wrapped up what I was doing and headed back towards my bedroom.  On the way, I knocked on Dean’s door again.  “Hey, I . . . uh, wanted to let you know I’m going to bed shortly.”

I continued on to my room, washed up, and climbed into bed.  I stayed up for a while, reading a book on Mesopotamian mythology, until it was clear that he wasn’t joining me.  This worried me above and beyond our current relationship issues.  Dean hadn’t had a troubled night since we’d begun sleeping together, and I wasn’t sure how he’d handle spending tonight alone.  But there wasn’t much I could do about it if he chose to stay away, so I turned off the lights and laid down.  It took some time to fall asleep by myself—the bed felt far too cold, empty, and silent.

I was awakened no more than a couple of hours later by a terrified outcry from the next room.  I hastily threw on a robe and bolted for his door, only to find it locked.  I pounded on it and attempted to shout over the noise within.  “Dean!  _Dean_!  It’s Sam!  Please wake up and let me in!  _DEAN_!”

The sounds of his panicked nightmare didn’t lessen in volume or intensity.  I continued to yell and bang on the door to no avail.  As much as I desperately wanted to kick the door in and go to him, I knew I couldn’t—I’d already taken away most of his agency, and barging into his only sanctuary without permission now would be worse for his state of mind than any bad dream.

I instead sank to the floor, tears streaming down my own face, and listened to him suffer.  This was entirely _my_ fault, not only because I’d created the situation that led to our fight, but also because I’d forced him to relive his darkest memories.  It was no coincidence that his reaction to this nightmare tonight seemed far worse than any of his previous ones. 

It took him nearly half an hour to quiet down, and I remained seated outside his door for another hour to ensure that there wasn’t going to be a repeat performance.  When I finally returned to my own bed, I resolved to do everything I could tomorrow to try to repair what I’d broken, so that Dean wouldn’t have to spend another night like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam is certainly smart and sensitive enough to figure out on his own what he did wrong and what he now has to do to fix that. But it's still often good to talk things out with sympathetic friends, who might bring clarity to a problem faster than dealing with it all by oneself. (Plus it was an excuse for more Lenore and Benny.) How Dean takes his overtures of repentance and where they go from there remains to be seen . . .
> 
> The line "Fuck these bullshit rules" which Lenore uses twice is from The Silvered by Tanya Huff, who is one of my favorite authors. I recommend checking out this book and her other works if you're a fan of fantasy, paranormal fantasy, or space opera-type science fiction.
> 
> This update is going up a little early today since we're about to go to a Memorial Day BBQ. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	22. Chapter 22

The next morning I awoke early, determined to get as much done today as I possibly could.  I dressed and sent an email into work, informing them that I was taking personal leave for the remainder of the week.  I put together a list of what I needed and looked up the best places to acquire each item.  I then went around the apartment, took down all but a couple of the security cameras, and tossed them in a box, which I left in the dining room.

Before leaving, I knocked on Dean’s door once more.  “Hey man, I’m heading out now.  I’m not going to work today, but I’ll be out for a while running some errands.  I’m not sure how long these will take.  When I get back though, I’d really like to talk.  I . . . I’ll see you later.”

As before, I didn’t receive a response.  Not sure if he was actually awake, given the difficult night before, I wrote him a note and left it on the kitchen counter.  I threw myself together a quick breakfast and took it with me as I hurried out to get to the first stores as they opened.

It was late afternoon by the time I returned home.  I was relieved to hear noise coming from the media room, suggesting that Dean hadn’t spent the whole day stewing in his room.  I dropped my purchases off in the dining room and organized them before going to get him.  I quietly watched him play _Zelda_ from the doorway for a few minutes.  Though he seemed calm, hurt and anger still simmered beneath the surface, though not as strongly as the previous day.

I knocked on the doorframe.  “Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.  Would you mind coming with me?  I’d like to talk, and I’ve got some things for you too.”

He paused his game and looked up at me sardonically.  “You honestly think _more_ pretty words and gifts are gonna fix things now?”

“I . . . I don’t know.  Maybe if they’re the _right_ words and the _right_ things, they might be a start.  Please give me a chance to try,” I replied.

He studied me for a moment before putting down the controller and standing.  “Fine, but you better not be dicking me around!”

I nodded and led him to the dining room, where I gestured him towards one of the chairs before taking a seat across from him.  “First, I am _very_ sorry.  I _never_ meant to hurt you.  I thought I was doing what was best for you, but obviously I was wrong.  I let myself get complacent and didn’t pay enough attention to the signs of trouble.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” he snapped.  “Sorry _ain’t_ gonna cut it now, dude.  You got anything more than that?”

I took a deep breath.  “I’ve been telling you for a while about how much I care about you, but that’s not completely accurate.  The truth is . . . I _love_ you, Dean.  You . . . you’re the most important thing in my life.  But I’ve been letting my fear dictate how I behave toward you—fear that if I loosened my control, I’d lose you, either to something I couldn’t protect you from or to your own need to be free.  I should’ve trusted your feelings for me and respected your ability to take care of yourself long before this.  I just hope it isn’t too late to repair what I’ve broken.”

Dean had stared wide-eyed at the word “love” but soon resumed his scowl.  “That would be a lovely fucking sentiment, if it wasn’t worth less than the oxygen it took to say it.  Plenty of asshats love their damn dogs too.  Don’t mean I wanna be treated like one!”

“I know that words aren’t enough anymore, so I’m going to try to _show_ you how sincere I am, starting with this.  What I’m giving you now aren’t gifts—these are things that I _owe_ you, things that you should’ve had from the beginning.”  I reached down to the pile of items on the chair next to me and handed him a piece of paper.  “I took down the containment spell when I got back today, and it won’t be going up ever again.  On that sheet are the words to dismiss the spell, should anyone try to cast it on you.”

He gazed down at the counterspell in surprise and then back up at me.  “Is this shit for real?”

“I’m completely and utterly serious—I’m not keeping you prisoner any longer.  We can test it later if you want, if you need proof that it works,” I said.  “I won’t make the mistake of brushing off your concerns ever again.  No more feeling trapped and helpless in what should’ve been your home, not your cell.

“And I’m not done yet.  Here are the keys to the front door to the apartment and the code to the alarm system, so you can come and go as you please.  This is a monthly pass which can be used on any form of public transportation in the city.  And this is a spare set of keys for my car, so you can borrow it when I’m not using it.  The apartment does have a second parking spot as well, if you want your own.”  I passed over each thing as I mentioned them.

“Don’t wanna drive anything ‘cept my Baby,” he mumbled distractedly.

“I wish you could, but it’s too risky to try to get her from Sioux Falls anytime soon,” I replied, then handed him a set of completed forms.  “Anyways, this is a copy of the application for a ‘trusted companion’ license I submitted for you.  Without this license, a collared human isn’t allowed out by himself, and he can be detained if caught by any community member until his owner or someone from the Security Commission claims him.  It normally takes a couple of weeks to process one of these applications, but I pulled some strings to get yours expedited.  Once we get that in hopefully a few days, you can safely go anywhere without me, at least as far as the community’s concerned.”

His lip curled.  “More of its damn _rules_?”

I looked down at my hands for a moment before meeting his eyes.  “When I talked to Lenore yesterday, she reminded me of something she said to me the first time we talked about you.  She told me that there would come a time when I’d have to choose between you and the community, between making you happy and following the rules.  Up until now, I’ve been trying to do both, which I mistakenly thought was good enough.  Obviously I was wrong, and I hurt you, so I'm going to do better going forward.  We can't avoid paying lip-service to _some_ of the rules, but if we can find some other way to free you, then the rules be damned.  _You_ will always come first from now on.”

“This ain't the first time you've said something like that, Sam,” Dean pointed out.  He then looked down at the papers and keys in front of him and sighed.  “But this time I guess you _are_ trying to actually do shit to back it up.  You got more for me then?”

I set two boxes on the table.  “Here are your own smartphone and laptop.  They're both top-of-the-line models, but if you want something else we can exchange them.  The note there has the wifi ID and password for the apartment and your new cell number.  It’s a completely separate account, not tied to mine, though like mine it can’t be traced by mundane or supernatural means.  Now you can call, email, or text whomever you want whenever you want.  No more permission or monitoring from me.

“Speaking of monitoring . . .  In this box are nearly all the surveillance cameras I had installed in the apartment.  The only remaining ones are in the foyer and out on the terrace and exterior hallway, and they’ll be linked to the security system.  The rest I’m going to put away in the storage room for use only as replacements.”  I showed him the contents of the box before setting it down beside me.

“Whenever you’re ready for it, I'll take you to the bank so you can open your own account.  I can give you a sum to start, and then after that you can either get a job if you wish, or we can set up a monthly stipend to be deposited into your account.  Either way, I won't have access to it, so the money will be yours alone to spend however you choose.  Oh, and I did ask Ash to . . . tweak your credit score if you want to get your own credit card,” I continued.  “You’ll be able to pay for whatever you want, including refills on your transit pass and your cell phone bill.  I don’t want you to feel dependent on me for everything anymore.”

“So this is it?  After all this shit, you're just gonna let me do whatever the hell I want from now on?”  He raised a disbelieving brow.

“Trust me, this _isn't_ easy!  Nearly every instinct in my body is screaming right now, as both an alpha and an incubus.  But I need to start listening to the _man_ inside me instead.  I'm sorry I didn't recognize sooner how I was hurting you, despite my good intentions.  The way I've behaved . . . well, it certainly isn't how _I’d_ want to be treated in a relationship.  To be honest, I’ve never had to take care of someone else before, at least not like this, and I’m afraid I—I let the baser aspects of my nature take over too much up until now.  I understand though that if I’m going to have a chance to fix this between us, if I want it to work out going forward, then I need to let go of my fears.  Which doesn't mean I won't fuck up again and act all primitive and overprotective, but I promise to try harder.”  I gave him a shaky smile.

He didn't return the smile, but his expression was more thoughtful than angry.  I decided to take this as a promising sign as I pushed two small boxes toward him.  “These are the last items I got for you.  I am _deeply_ ashamed at how I lost control yesterday and frightened you.  I would _never_ intentionally harm you, but I get that you can't simply take my word for it.  So I’m giving you these to even the playing field.

“Incubi are very difficult to injure, let alone kill, but we do have two weaknesses.  Inside the first box is a vial of distilled oil of vervain.  The smell of vervain is extremely repugnant to us—rather like garlic in vampire myth—and ingesting it will make us violently ill.  If you wear the oil, either on your skin or in the diffuser pendant also in the box, I won't be able to approach you without becoming nauseous.  If you put even a drop or two in my food, you’ll render me sick enough to be helpless.  And the other box contains a consecrated birch stake.  Stabbing through the heart with one of those is the only method to kill an incubus.”

“What the _hell_?  I—I don't want this shit, Sam!  I don't fucking wanna _hurt_ you!”  He shoved the two boxes at me.

“I know that, but you need to have them regardless.  No matter how fit or well-trained you are, I’ll always be stronger due to what I am.  If we’re going to _truly_ be lovers—assuming you still want that—we have to be equal as much as possible.  That can't happen if you don't have a _real_ means to defend yourself against me.”  I gently pushed them back.

“Fine!  I'll keep the damn things ‘cause you insist, _not_ ‘cause I ever plan to use ‘em.”  He opened the box with the stake, peeked inside, and shut it quickly.  “You gotta know though . . . I ain't _really_ afraid of you, okay?  Yeah, seeing you go all Crinos yesterday freaked me the fuck out.  But I—I still know who you are on the inside, and _that_ guy would never hurt me on purpose.”

Dean quietly studied the items in front of him for a long moment before looking up.  “As for the rest . . . I meant what I said yesterday ‘bout leaving.  This was _never_ ‘bout getting away from you, man.  I _did_ say some other crap I didn't really mean too though, ‘cause I was so pissed.  I know you really _do_ care ‘bout me, and not as a damn pet.  And I . . . I got feelings for you too.  I dunno if it's love or some other shit, but it's stronger than I’ve felt for just ‘bout anyone else.  I ain't willing to give up on that just yet.

“At the same time though . . . what does it say ‘bout _you_ , Sam, that you thought it was _okay_ to keep me under your fucking thumb like this ‘til now?  And that it had to take me _shoving_ this shit in your face to get you to see you were wrong?  For that matter, what does it say ‘bout how you think ‘bout _me_ if you assumed I was _happy_ to be treated like that?” he asked.  “I know you meant well, but this _ain't_ something I can get over easy.  I appreciate that you're trying to make amends now, and this right here is a damn good start.  But I gotta know that you're _really_ gonna follow through with changing things between us.”

“I totally get that, Dean.  I don't expect you to forgive me so soon.  I’m grateful enough that you’re giving me the chance to try to earn it.  You take as much time as you need,” I replied.  “There is one thing I’d like you to consider though.  I would like you to go back to sleeping with me tonight.  We don’t have to do anything more than share the bed, but I don’t want you to suffer through another night like last night.”

He grimaced.  “You heard all that, I guess?”

I shuddered.  “I did, and _I_ don’t want to go through it again!  I desperately wanted to break in and go to you, but I knew that wasn’t what you wanted.  I hope that you’ll change your mind about tonight though, for your own sake.”

“I’ll . . . I’ll think ‘bout it.  Lemme take this stuff to my room, and then I gotta get started on dinner.”  He rose and gathered up the boxes and papers.

“You don’t have to—we can order something in instead.”

“Nah, that’s okay.  You know cooking relaxes me, dude.”  He left the room.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relieved at how well the conversation had just gone.  I still had a long way to go before Dean would be ready to forgive me, and I had no illusions that the process would be quick or easy.  But the fact that he was willing to let go of the worst of his anger and give me another chance couldn’t help but give me a hopeful outlook.

I took the box of now superfluous cameras to the storage room and stashed them on a shelf with some other spare electronics.  I was pleasantly surprised to find the clock-radio back on the shelf, reassembled and with a small Post-It attached saying, “Fixed.”  I had to take a moment to wipe the smile off my face before leaving the storage room and heading to the kitchen.

I took a seat at the breakfast bar and watched Dean remove ingredients from the fridge.  “Can I help with anything?”

“Yeah, sure.  Shell these—tails and all.”  He handed me a bag of thawed shrimp and a bowl, then pulled out a cutting board and chef’s knife.

I washed my hands before resuming my seat and starting to peel.  “So . . . uh, I noticed that you put that clock-radio back?  Instead of continuing to work on your . . . project?”

He shrugged but didn’t take his attention from chopping up a green pepper.  “I decided to see what you’re gonna do first.  Figure I can rebuild the damn thing if I _hafta_ , but . . . it ain’t what I _wanna_ do.  Truth be told, I’m glad this is all out in the open and shit.  I didn’t _like_ having to go behind your back like that, but it ain’t like you left me much other choice.  Now I just gotta see if I made the right decision or not.”

“I’m glad that we’re being more honest with each other too, man.  I’m going to make sure that in the future, you feel comfortable confiding in me if there’s something wrong and know that I’ll take it seriously,” I said.  “I truly _am_ sorry that I let this get so bad.”

He shrugged again as he moved on to cutting up an onion.  “So you’ve said, Sam.  As long as your actions live up to your words, that’s what’s really gonna matter.  But I _do_ hope you’re right.”

I was quiet for a few minutes, continuing to shuck the shrimp while he finished with the onion and sliced up some Andouille sausage.  As he pulled out a large sauté pan and set it on the stove, I placed the bowl of shrimp on the counter near him and went to the sink to clean my hands.

Once I was seated again, I mentioned, “If you’re interested in getting a job at some point, I . . . um, may have a suggestion.  You remember the first time we went to Harvelle’s?  Everyone there was _really_ impressed with your cooking, and Ellen . . . well, she asked me if she could hire you to work there regularly.”

Dean looked up from frying the pepper, onion, and some minced garlic with a frown.  “You never said shit ‘bout that before.  Didn’t you think I mighta wanted to fucking _know_ ‘bout something like that?”

I hunched my shoulders in embarrassment.  “Yeah, I should’ve told you.  It’s just that . . . I _thought_ I was sparing your feelings, since at the time there was _no_ way I was going to allow it.  So I figured why even mention it when it would only upset you?  Once again I was wrong, and I apologize.

“But the point is, I’m sure Ellen would still be interested if you want to work for her.  Every time we go there, she complains about the incompetent idiot she’s got running the kitchen right now, and she’d _love_ an excuse to replace him.  And since the restaurant is still in the middle of renovations, this could be a _great_ opportunity to get in there and put your own stamp on it!” I concluded enthusiastically.

“You really think so?”  He shook his head.  “Nah, she’ll want someone with _real_ experience as her top chef, not a hack like me.  But she’ll probably need more line cooks or something too, so maybe that could work.  Guess it can’t hurt to ask, right?  I _do_ like cooking, and I’d rather work for her than some stranger that could turn out to be a total douchebag.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short, but you should definitely talk to her.  If you don’t want to wait until you get your companion license, I can take you whenever you want.  We can also go to the bank and take care of anything else you need too,” I responded.  “I’ve taken the rest of the week off, so I’m completely at your service!”

“Okay, then let’s go tomorrow.  No sense in waiting, right?”  He smiled almost shyly as he added the sausage, chicken broth, rice, a can of diced tomatoes, and various seasonings to the pan.  “This _could_ be pretty awesome.  Even if Ellen doesn’t have an opening for me, she might have recommendations for other decent places to check out.  I know I wanna earn my own money instead of taking a handout from you, even if you don’t mean it that way.  I wanna be able to stand on my own, ‘cause like you said, we hafta be more equal if we’re gonna make this work right.”

“I think this lead with Ellen _will_ pan out.  I’ll admit, it’ll make taming the prehistoric parts of my brain easier to know that you’ll be working with friends.  And I think you’ll do her business a lot of good too.  I met her not long after she first opened the bar here, and I know how hard she’s worked to make it successful.  So as her friend _and_ as her lawyer, I want to see this new venture thrive.  I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think this could be great for _both_ of you,” I told him.

“I hope you’re right, dude.  Though it ain’t like you’ve got an unbiased opinion of my skills,” he said self-deprecatingly, giving the simmering contents of the pan a stir before covering it.

“Stop putting yourself down, Dean!” I retorted.  “I’m hardly a foodie, but I’ve eaten at a _lot_ of restaurants over the years, both in this city and elsewhere.  Your cooking is _easily_ as good as or better than most of them, and I’m _not_ just saying that because of my personal feelings for you.  If you don’t believe _my_ opinion, then remember how much everyone else who’s tried your food has loved it.  And that’s without any formal training or extensive experience, so this is all _you_!”

“Alright, calm down already!  I still think you’re making a big deal over nothing, but we’ll see,” he replied, his cheeks pink.

After dinner, Dean brought his new phone and laptop to the library to set up.  Glad that he was seeking out my company instead of holing up in his room, I offered my assistance where needed.  He was soon happily adding contacts, downloading apps, bookmarking websites, and raiding my collection of games to install.

Eventually I asked, “Hey Dean, there’s something you mentioned yesterday, about not trying to call for help except for that first time.  What did you mean by that?”

He looked up from his laptop screen.  “Oh, _that_.  Well, during my first phone call to Bobby, I gave him a code word— _Poughkeepsie_.  It’s something we had set up when I first went out on my own, as a way to let him know I was in trouble if I was ever in a situation where I couldn’t talk freely.  I was kinda worried at the time that you mighta noticed that Poughkeepsie ain’t exactly on the way from anywhere near where I was grabbed to Sioux Falls.”

I felt a chill.  “So Bobby _knows_ that there’s something wrong?”

“Not anymore, Sam!  Sure, I figure he tried searching for me at first, though obviously he didn’t have any luck tracking me down.  But after I decided I _didn’t_ wanna leave, I told him not to worry ‘bout the Poughkeepsie thing, that I’d taken care of it.  It took a little convincing, but everything’s fine now,” he assured me.

I vaguely remembered the conversation in question.  It’d been at that point that he’d stopped referring to me as simply the friend he was staying with and begun telling his foster father that we were dating.  Bobby _had_ seemed skeptical at first but appeared to warm up to the idea over the course of subsequent exchanges via phone and email.

“I suppose you’re right.  He’d have shown up by now if he was still hunting for you,” I said in relief.  “We obviously can’t mention this— _or_ what happened yesterday—to anyone who might pass it on to the Security Commission though.  We don’t want to give Alastair _any_ kind of ammunition.”

He nodded vigorously.  “I hear you—mum’s the fucking word!  So, you wanna go to bed?  Neither of us got a lotta sleep yesterday, so turning in early tonight sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Will you be joining me or . . . or sleeping alone?”

“I’ll come with you.  I don’t think either of us wanna risk a repeat of last night!  Even without the nightmare, I—I didn’t like sleeping without you, Sammy,” he admitted as he shut down his computer.

“I missed you too last night—that big bed felt pretty damn empty all by myself.”  I stood and held out my hand.

I left Dean at his room to change and continued to my own bathroom to wash up and undress.  Mindful of the other man’s boundaries, I didn’t strip down completely, leaving my undershirt and boxers on.  When he came in not long after, he was dressed in sleep pants and a t-shirt and seemed relieved to not find me nude either.  He climbed into bed as I turned off the lights and unexpectedly curled up against my side.

I glanced down at where he was resting his head against my shoulder.  “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this, Dean?  I meant it earlier about being fine just sleeping together.”

He sighed.  “There’s a lot I ain’t sure ‘bout right now, man.  One of the main reasons I . . . _fell_ for you was that you seemed so _different_ than the other guys I’d dealt with for so long.  You _cared_ so much and didn’t demand anything in return.  I mean, yeah, I knew you were interested in more than my thrilling conversation, but you were willing to wait for whatever I was able to offer at my own pace.  No one besides Bobby ever gave me that, and in his case everything was always weighed down by guilt and obligation.

“That’s why it _hurt_ so much when I realized you _weren’t_ as different as I’d hoped.  When you refused to drop any of the possessive, controlling bullshit, I started wondering if I’d gotten trapped by _exactly_ the type of alpha douchebag I’d tried my whole life to avoid.  I get that ain’t what you meant, but you know what they say ‘bout intentions and the road to Hell.  So you gotta prove to me that I can still trust the good dude I thought I knew and not fear that the domineering asshole will take over again.

“’Cause of that, I dunno how soon I’m gonna be comfortable getting . . . physical again.  But the fact that we _do_ care ‘bout each other hasn’t changed, and I still wanna be able to show that and get that in return.  I—I haven’t had much real affection before, and I don’t wanna give that up.”  He bit his lip and ducked his head.

I immediately pulled him into an embrace.  “I’m not going to apologize again, because words aren’t enough to express how badly I feel for hurting you.  I _will_ do my best to regain your trust and earn your forgiveness.  And thank you again for giving me this second chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sam has implemented the first steps in trying to fix his relationship with Dean by taking down his security measures and giving Dean some of the means to be more independent, as well as of course apologizing for his actions. The hard part is still to come though, of controlling his instincts and learning to let go when Dean starts to go out by himself. We'll have to see how well Sam handles that! 
> 
> I hope folks don't feel as if Dean let go of his anger too easily. He did have time to cool down and realize some of his reactions and words during the fight were overly harsh, especially since Sam is obviously trying to make amends now. And underneath everything, he does still care for Sam deeply. But they still have to rebuild trust on both sides before they can truly repair their relationship, including the physical aspects. (Though there's of course the looming problem of Dean's imminent heat to complicate matters.)
> 
> When it came to the methods for repelling or killing an incubus, I decided to come up with something different than the original story. I first looked up lore on incubi and succubi, but the myths only mentioned using exorcisms to banish them since they're considered a type of demon (which they aren't in my AU). I did find a couple references to vervain (also known as verbena) and birch in mythology about other incubus-like creatures, so I chose to use those. 
> 
> I don't know if anyone caught the brief mention Dean made during the fight about his trying to let Bobby know he was in trouble during their very first phone call. But Sam did--though at the time of the fight there were more important issues to bring up--so he finally got an explanation for Poughkeepsie. There hadn't been a good opportunity in the previous chapters to go into Dean calling Bobby off of any rescue attempt after he decided he wanted to stay with Sam, so I brought it up here. Whether Bobby actually bought it or not is still up in the air though. There was also something mentioned earlier in this chapter which explains why Bobby wasn't able to trace any of Dean's calls or emails to discover his location. (And something mentioned near the end which gives insight into some of the reasons why Dean didn't stay with Bobby after graduating high school.)
> 
> Next week's update should go up on Monday afternoon/evening as usual. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	23. Chapter 23

The night passed uneventfully, and we both ended up sleeping in late.  The omega was still sleeping peacefully when I woke up but was gone by the time I emerged from the bathroom.  After throwing on jeans and a flannel shirt, I headed to the kitchen and started the coffee maker.  I’d just poured my first cup when he joined me in the kitchen and began preparing breakfast.

Once half my plate of sunny-side-up eggs and waffles had been demolished, I said, “My recommendation is that we open your account at Crowley’s bank.  I have my accounts there, as do many in the community.  Members get certain perks, like better rates and lower fees than outsiders.  Also, knowing that you’re receiving community benefits will make it a little easier to be accepted in some people’s eyes.  But if you’d prefer to bank somewhere else, we’ll go there.”

Dean swallowed a mouthful of eggs and shrugged.  “Never had a bank account before, so I dunno enough to prefer one bank over the other.  As long as it’s got debit cards and ATMs and shit like that, Crowley’s bank sounds fine to me.”

“The bank has a few branches and ATMs throughout the city, and community members can use other banks’ ATMs without a fee,” I assured him. 

After we’d finished eating and I’d washed the dishes, I pulled out my checkbook.  He looked uncomfortable when I handed him a check in his name for five hundred dollars.

“I dunno if I’m cool with this or not, man,” he muttered, staring at the slip of paper.  “Though I guess I can pay it back after I get a job.”

I shook my head vehemently.  “Dean, I _bought_ you.  There’s _no_ possible way I could take money from you after that, or after how boneheaded I’ve been since.  This money is _yours_ , with absolutely no strings attached.  If you want to use some of this or some of your paychecks to buy groceries or stuff for the apartment or something like that, that’s your choice.  But you don’t _owe_ me anything!”

“I guess.  It still feels weird though.”  He folded the check and put it in his wallet.

“Let’s get going.”  I held out my hand.

He took it and followed me out.  As we waited for the elevator, he confessed, “Last night before I came to bed, I opened the front door and came out here, just to see if I could.  Seems like such a dumbass thing to get so excited ‘bout, but I couldn’t help it!”

“No, I get it, man.  I’m just sorry I didn’t recognize how much this was bugging you.  Once you get that license in a couple of days though, you’ll be able to do more than come out into this hallway on your own,” I told him.

He grinned as we stepped into the elevator.  “And I can’t wait for that!  Visiting the shops downstairs whenever I want, checking out the rest of the neighborhood, even just taking a walk for some fresh air!  It’s gonna be _awesome_!”

“I’m sure it will, but you have to remember to be _cautious_ too!  I know you can take care of yourself in most situations, but there’s going to be more than the usual criminal element or pushy alphas to potentially have to fend off here,” I warned.  “Alastair might be too bogged down with the investigation into my complaint against him to bother us for a while, according to my sources, but there are other threats out in the community.  There are some members who _enjoy_ picking on collared humans, and not all of those will be dissuaded by yours being gold.  Many of these creatures are too strong to simply fight off, and even if you could, they could then try to bring you up on charges if you injure them.”

“Well, whaddya expect me to fucking do ‘bout it?” he demanded while we walked to the car.  “I ain’t gonna cower at home like some scared little kid!”

“No, of course not!  I’m just asking you to be _careful_ , okay?  Try to stick to places where there are plenty of other people, for example.  Like most bullies, the assclowns who might try to hassle you—whether supernatural or not—generally don’t want witnesses.  And one of the places I’d like to stop by today is the shop where I bought the vervain and birch stake.  It has other protective and defensive items that might prove useful,” I replied before getting in.

“Alright, I hear ya, Sam.  I like keeping my hide in one piece too,” he said.

Upon arriving at the bank, we waited a few minutes until one of the personal bankers was available.  As the demon walked up to us, he glanced over at Dean, his gaze momentarily lingering on the collar.  He then fixed his attention on me and smiled ingratiatingly.

“How can I help you today, sir?” he asked.

“Not me— _he’s_ the customer.”  I pointed to Dean.

The demon raised his brows, looked back at Dean, and said doubtfully, “If you say so, sir.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m a human with a fucking collar—get over it!  I wanna open a checking account here.  You gonna help me or not, Chuckles?”

“Of course.  We do offer _some_ services to . . . outsiders.  Please, follow me.”  The banker plastered a fake smile on his face and led us to his desk.  “So what kind of account are you interested in?  Our standard basic checking account has a minimum bal—”

I leaned forward.  “He wants an interest-bearing checking account.  With _member_ benefits.”

The demon’s expression was scandalized.  “Sir!  My apologies, but you are aware we _cannot_ offer those to just _anyone_.  I’m sure you’re fond of your little . . . _pet_ , but that does _not_ make it a true part of _our_ society.”

“And _I’m_ saying that he _is_.  If that isn’t enough, call Crowley.  Tell him Sam Campbell and Dean Winchester are here, and Dean wants a premium account with _full_ community privileges.”  I crossed my arms and waited.

He picked up the phone and dialed an extension.  “Good morning, sir.  I’m dreadfully sorry to bother you, but I have a gold-collared human here that wants to open an account, and the incubus with it insists that it be given _member_ benefits . . . Yes, those are the names they gave me . . . But sir, we _can’t_ just—”  He suddenly gagged, his face turning white.  “ _No_ , s—sir! . . . Ye—yes, sir!  Right away, sir!”

The banker hung up the phone with a trembling hand and turned back to us, his expression now obsequious.  “Please, sirs, let me make sure you get _exactly_ what you want.  Mr. Winchester, if you could please show me some ID?” 

The demon then practically fell all over himself to meet our requests, almost groveling while he opened the account, deposited the initial balance, set up the debit card, and issued the starter checks.  Dean looked bemused at the abrupt change in behavior but didn’t comment as he filled out the necessary forms.  Once our business was concluded, we shook the banker’s hand and then turned to leave.

As we crossed the lobby, Crowley materialized near the doors.  “Ah, there you are, Moose, Squirrel!  I wanted to catch you before you left.  Did the toady take care of you adequately?”

Dean smirked.  “After you put the fear of Hell in him, yeah.  Thanks for the support, man.”

Crowley waved a nonchalant hand.  “What are friends for?  Asking for community benefits is a rather bold move.  I hope it pays off for you.  Oh and Sam, you’ll be glad to know that I gave our young friend here a _glowing_ recommendation when the pleasant lady from the Security Commission called this morning.”

“It’s part of the application for your trusted companion license,” I explained to Dean.  “I put Crowley, Lenore, and Benny down as references for your character and good behavior.  I figured the Commission wouldn’t argue with the word of a successful businessman, reputable lawyer, and decorated police detective who are all long-standing, respected members of the community—and more.”

“Nice play there, Sammy!” Dean said admiringly.  “And thanks again, Crowley.  You’ve been nothing but awesome!”

“Same here.  I can’t thank you enough for all your help!” I added.

“You’ve assisted me in the past, so it’s only right that I return the favor,” Crowley responded.  “Perhaps once you get your license, Dean, you can help me in turn?  I could use someone taking Juliet out for a run during the day while I’m out.  She tends to try to eat the flunkies I send to take care of her.”

“Well, we’re gonna talk to Ellen ‘bout a job, but I’m sure I can fit Juliet’s walkies into my schedule.  It ain’t like you gotta twist my arm to spend time with the big dumb mutt,” Dean answered fondly.

“Ah, so Sam finally told you about that?  Excellent!  I expect an invitation to sample your fine cuisine when the restaurant opens.  I’ll leave you to it then.  Tah for now!”  With that, the demon disappeared.

“So he can Force-choke dickwads _and_ he can teleport?  You got any cool powers I dunno ‘bout, Sam?” Dean asked as we exited the building.

“I’m afraid not, other than faster healing and more acute senses than a human—which most supernatural creatures have,” I replied drily before getting into the car.

Harvelle’s had just opened for the day when we arrived, so there were no other customers present yet.  More than half of the dining area and the entire back end behind the bar itself were cordoned off with plywood barriers, behind which could be heard muffled sounds of construction.  Ellen was seated at one of the remaining booths, various papers and plans spread out on the table in front of her and a frazzled expression on her face.

She lifted her head as we walked in.  “Morning, boys!  I’m afraid all we can offer right now are drinks and basic bar snacks like peanuts and chips.  The kitchen’s been completely demo’ed, along with everything next door and a good chunk out here.  Which is for the best, I guess, since it gives me more time to figure out this damn cook fiasco!”

“Don’t worry about us, Ellen.  We’re not here for a meal anyways,” I said while sliding into the seat across from her.  “What’s wrong with your cook _this_ time?”

“I finally got fed up and fired the dumbass!  He wasn’t bad when I first hired him as essentially a short-order cook, but as the bar got busier, he got more and more unreliable.  Yet the fool _still_ expected to be put in charge of the back of the house after the expansion!  Well, he came in late and hungover one time too many, so as of yesterday his ass is _gone_!” she exclaimed.  “But now I hafta find a new head chef in addition to a buncha other additional staff.  His assistant cook is a sweet kid but don’t have the skill or gumption to be in charge.”

“Then the timing of our visit is rather fortuitous,” I commented, then nudged Dean beside me.

“Dude, quit it!  Uh . . . so Sam mentioned that you mighta been interested in hiring me back when I helped out during my first visit.  I know it’s been a while, but I was wondering if that offer is still open?” he asked a bit sheepishly.  “I ain’t expecting anything much, but if you need another line cook or—”

“Now hold up a minute, kid,” she interrupted firmly.  “You took over my kitchen for barely more than an hour that day, and you managed to clear orders faster than my regular crew ever could.  Not only that, but I _still_ have customers coming up to me a month later with compliments and requests for your return!  So if you want the head chef position, it’s yours.”

He gaped at her in shock.  “ _Me_?  But—but _why_?  I ain’t got any fancy culinary training or even that much experience.  There’s gotta be plenty of _way_ more qualified cooks out there.  Hell, you barely even _know_ me!”

Ellen smiled at him.  “You didn’t know me from Adam either that day, yet you didn’t hesitate to offer to help me out, and you didn’t ask for anything in return.  Character like _that_ matters to me more than what’s on some diploma or resume.  Plus you were raised by Bobby Singer, and you made Sam here wanna settle down, which tells me _plenty_ ‘bout you.  What I need the most is someone I can _rely_ on, which I reckon you fit the bill for.  I already know you’ve got the culinary skills, and I can train you in the managerial end.  So, you interested?”

“Of course I’m _interested_ , but . . .  Ellen, are you _sure_?  I—I dunno if I’m the right guy for this, and I don’t wanna bring you down,” he explained.

“Give yourself some credit, man!  I keep telling you that the food you prepare is _easily_ on the level of a professional chef, and Ellen clearly thinks so too.  The skills can be learned, but the _talent_ and _passion_ needed to be a truly great cook aren’t something even the best culinary school can teach—and you have _those_ in spades.  This could be an opportunity to not only do something you love but also share it with everyone else.  You can _do_ this!” I told him.

Dean bit his lip uncertainly for a moment before squaring his shoulders.  “Alright, I’ll give it a try.  I still think you’re fucking nuts to ask me, but I’m gonna do my best to make this work.”

“Great!  Now obviously we ain’t doing any cooking here anytime soon—in fact, even this part of the bar will be shut down shortly to complete the renovations.  But there’s still gonna be _plenty_ for you to do, like planning the menu, figuring out the food budget, interviewing kitchen staff candidates, and so on,” she said briskly.  “I’ll help you as much as I can with the stuff you ain’t familiar with yet, but this is gonna involve learning to swim in the deep end pretty quick.  We’re looking to reopen in four to six weeks, and there’s a _lotta_ things that hafta get done in that time.

“As far as compensation goes, I was gonna start this position off at fifty thousand a year.  I recognize that’s low for a head chef compared to most other restaurants, but I need to keep costs down while this gets off the ground.  I always take care of my people though, so as soon as business picks up, I’ll raise salaries appropriately,” she continued.  “And of course you’ll get the standard benefits—medical, dental, vision, retirement fund, disability coverage, and paid time off.  You get two weeks of vacation time to start, and I don’t track sick or personal time as long as no one’s an ass ‘bout it.  Everyone also gets one meal with their shift.  Does that sound good?”

He looked stunned.  “Good?  That sounds _awesome_!  I ain’t _ever_ earned anywhere close to this much, and hardly _any_ of the places I worked at had benefits, at least not for short-term guys like me.”

Ellen frowned and shook her head.  “It’s a sad fact that a lotta restaurants don’t offer much, which is why most of ‘em churn through workers.  But I want my employees to stick around and feel like family—most of my people have been with me for years.  That’s why I also closed the bar on major holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, so that we can enjoy ‘em like everyone else, and I plan to do the same with the restaurant.”

He grinned at her.  “Like I said— _awesome_.  Okay, whaddya need me to do right now?”

“First step is filling out the employment paperwork, which I’ll get for you in a bit.  Next is getting you up to speed as soon as possible.  I’ll make copies of the plans and any other documents that might be relevant and send ‘em to you tomorrow.”  She tapped one of the piles of papers in front of her.  “You might wanna pick up some how-to books on running a kitchen too.  I’ll give you a few days to study all that, and then we’ll get together on Monday to discuss everything, including any ideas you might have by then.”

He nodded.  “That should work.  It’ll keep me busy until my companion license thingy comes in.  Sam thinks I should get it by the end of the week, so coming here on Monday should be fine.”

“You let me know if it doesn’t, and I can go to your place instead.  Now just gimme a few minutes to go get those forms.  Since my old office is gone, I’ve got most of that stuff stored in my car.”  She rose and went outside.

I threw my arms around the omega.  “Dude, I’m so happy for you!  You’re going to be _great_ at this!”

He grinned again and hugged back.  “Thanks, Sam.  I know this ain’t much compared to your big lawyer salary and shit, but this is gonna be my first time having a _real_ job with a regular paycheck and bennies.  And I get to design the menu and help pick who’s gonna work in the kitchen and all that too!  I’ve never been in charge of _anything_ before.  I—I just hope I don’t fuck anything up.”

“You won’t, Dean.  You’re smart, capable, and hard-working, and you can do anything you put your mind to,” I said.  “This is pretty much your dream job, so I know you’re going to do your best to see it succeed.  You’re going to be _incredible_ at this and kick all your doubts in the ass!”

Ellen came back at that point with an employment contract, W-2, I-9, payroll forms, and benefits paperwork.  After filling out the blanks on the contract, she passed everything over.  “If you wanna take a day or two to think this over, go right ahead.  When you’re ready, I’ll need the contract and these other forms back first.  You can take your time to read over the benefits stuff and gimme those back next week.”

“Nah, I’m ready to do this now.  Lemme fill out what I can here,” he replied.

As Dean started to work on the forms, Ellen drew me aside.  “You sure you’re okay with this, Sam?  ‘Cause you sang a different tune the first time I brought up offering Dean a job.  I don’t wanna cause any friction between you boys.”

“Things have changed, Ellen.  I was forced pretty recently to see that what I’ve been doing hasn’t been simply protecting him, it’s also been stifling him.  He has every right to want to walk away, but he’s giving me another chance instead.  So I’m going to be as supportive as I can for whatever he wants to do,” I said.  “I’m still anxious about his safety, of course, but I have to learn loosen up and believe that he can take care of himself.  Though it does make me feel better that he’ll be working here with you, Jo, and Ash, as opposed to with strangers who might not look after him.”

She put a hand on my arm and squeezed gently.  “That’s good to hear.  Try not to worry too much—Dean is gonna do _fine_.  I know this ain’t easy for you, but what’s between the two of you is only gonna get stronger ‘cause of it.”

I smiled at her.  “I know he will.  This will be great for _both_ of you.”

Once Dean handed over the completed forms, she said, “Alright, send me a scan of your ID as soon as you can so I can get you on the books.  Here’s my number and email if you have any questions over the next few days.  Otherwise I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“Thanks, Ellen.  I’m looking forward to it!”  He gave her a hug.

I hugged her too and bid her farewell before following him out the door.  He cradled the benefits pamphlets and forms to his chest as we walked to the car and carefully placed them in the door pocket after getting inside.

“Man, I can’t wait to call Bobby and tell him ‘bout this!” he exclaimed.  He then paused and looked concerned.  “I’ll have to be careful ‘bout what I say though, since he knows Ellen.  I dunno how much they’ve kept in touch since the Roadhouse burned down—Ash said he hasn’t seen ‘em in a while.  But I don’t wanna risk him figuring out where we are, in case he knows she moved here.”

“Huh!  Glad you thought about that!  I’m sorry I doubted you the other day.  I should’ve known that you’d never do anything to put me in danger.”  I reached over and took his hand.

He curled his fingers around mine.  “It’s okay, man.  We were both pissed, and we both said some shit without thinking.  But we gotta move past that and learn how to trust each other.”

I pulled out of the parking lot before responding.  “Have I mentioned lately how amazing you are?  Most people wouldn’t be willing to let something like that go, let alone allow me the opportunity to try to make up for what happened.”

“Pointing fingers at each other and holding on to the bad shit ain’t gonna fix what’s wrong.  I’d rather focus on making us work right again.”  He leaned over and kissed my cheek.  “And I wanna thank you again, Sam.  Not just for suggesting this thing with the restaurant, but also for backing me up when I wasn’t sure ‘bout myself.  Everything’s gonna get better from here—I can just feel it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, and more progress is made in Sam giving Dean more freedom (and hopefully fixing their relationship). The scene in the bank is based on the similar one in Wrapped in Honey, complete with obnoxious demon flunky. I think I've been looking for excuses to include more scenes with Crowley in my works because I'm still bitter about his death in canon and how poorly Mark Sheppard was treated (as some of you know who've read my comments on some of my previous stories).
> 
> Obviously it's not terribly realistic for a restaurant owner to be willing to hire someone with no training and little formal experience for anything much above entry-level, let alone the head chef position. But I want to give Dean an opportunity to really let his talents shine (and deal with some of his self-esteem issues), and since it's my fic, nyah! ;) Besides, I could see Ellen as the type to go with her gut and be willing to take a risk on someone like Dean, instead of playing it safe with hiring someone with a fancier resume. I also recognize that it's not realistic to completely renovate a restaurant--sale, design, construction, etc.--in only a couple of months. But Ellen does have the benefits of her community connections to help cut through red tape for planning, permits, etc. and enable the construction work to go faster (have a 2nd nocturnal shift, and stronger creatures can complete certain work easier).
> 
> Next week's update should go up Monday afternoon/evening per usual. I'll be having minor surgery the following day, but that shouldn't affect my writing schedule too much. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for serious food porn ahead, and in many of the chapters from now on as Dean delves further into his new job. You might not want to continue reading while hungry! ;P

“I’ve got it,” I announced when I returned to the apartment Friday afternoon.

Dean looked up from stirring a pot of chili on the stove.  “Got what?”

The omega had thrown himself wholeheartedly into preparing for his new job over the past couple of days.  One of our stops after leaving Harvelle’s had been a bookstore, where he picked up reference books on restaurant management and the role of an executive chef, as well as several new cookbooks.  Since then, he spent much of his time either studying them and the documents Ellen sent over or working in our kitchen.  He was currently considering upscale versions of classic American cuisine from around the country as the theme for the menu and had started testing out recipes.  So far I’d sampled beer-battered fried cheese curds, _cioppino_ with sourdough bread, Baltimore-style crab cakes with tartar sauce, meatloaf with balsamic mushroom sauce, grilled corn-on-the-cob with smoky lime butter, maple spiced baked beans, blueberry cobbler, dill pickle chips with Sriracha mayo sauce, shrimp po’boy sandwiches with rémoulade and Crystal hot sauce, and baked sweet potato fries with garlic aoli.

I held out a manila envelope.  He put the spoon down, wiped his hands clean with a towel, and took the envelope from me.  He pulled out a thick sheaf of papers, then reached in again and removed a plastic card.  The card was designed similarly to a state-issued ID, with his name and identifying information, my name and signature, the address of the apartment, and a picture of him I’d supplied, all surrounded by a gold-foil border and covered in a holographic overlay.

“I stopped by the Security Commission’s office while I was out and picked up your companion license,” I answered.  “The packet should be instructions on how it can be used, penalties if the rules aren’t followed, and crap like that.”

He studied the card.  “Does the color of the border mean something, like the collars?”

“Yes, it signifies how long the bearer is allowed to be out and how far away from the owner’s home they’re allowed to go.  Gold means there’s no time limit and only a few places which are off-limits without me accompanying you—mostly places you wouldn’t want to go anyway, like the various Commission offices or the Food Market.  The instructions should spell it out in detail,” I explained.  “But the important thing is that you no longer have to wait for me if you want to go out.”

“Awesome!  I got some errands I wanna run tomorrow morning, and now I don’t hafta bug you to take me.  I’ll check out these instructions after dinner.”  He gathered up the card, papers, and envelope and set them on the breakfast bar.

“Speaking of which, what else are you making?  It smells delicious in here!”  I sniffed the air appreciatively.

“Got no-bean Texas chili in here, which should be done in ‘bout an hour.  I’m gonna get started on the cornbread in a bit.  There are barbeque baby back ribs out on the grill that’ll be done ‘bout the same time as the chili—you’re probably smelling them too.  The potato salad is chilling in the fridge, and the strawberry-rhubarb pie is cooling on the counter,” he said.

“You’ve been busy this afternoon!” I commented.  “I also paid a visit to the clinic to talk to Dr. Talbot, since your heat is due to start in the next two to three weeks.  It took quite a bit of convincing—and the promise of a hefty fee!—to get her to agree to come over when it does begin to monitor your symptoms.  She still doesn’t understand why we won’t take care of it . . . uh, the traditional way.”

“Why ain’t any of her damn business.  I don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout her fucking opinion—she just needs to do her goddamn job!” Dean retorted irritably.

“She did try to insist that if our method doesn’t seem to be working, she’ll take matters into her own hands.  She doesn’t want to be responsible for you possibly dying, so she threatened that she’ll call in another alpha to ‘take care of you’ if she’s unable to control your temperature.”  My lips drew back in a snarl at the memory of the conversation.  “I in turn told the good doctor that if she tries anything like that, I’ll rip her throat out before she can finish the call.  She backed down quickly enough after realizing that I wasn’t bluffing.”

His face had gone white at Bela’s threat, and he had to swallow before he could speak.  “I fucking hope so!  ‘Cause I ain’t gonna be in any shape to stop the bitch if she does try any shit like that, man.”

“Don’t worry—there’s _no_ way I’d ever let anyone force you.  Hopefully it won’t come to that though,” I said.  “On a somewhat less dreadful note, I also asked her if there’s any way we can tell ahead of time when your heat is about to start.  Dr. Talbot said that, since we obviously can’t run blood or urine analysis here, the next best method is to check your temperature at least twice a day.  If it rises to over ninety-nine point five degrees for more than twelve hours, then your heat will most likely begin in less than a day.”

“That ain’t much of an advanced warning,” he noted.

“No, but it’ll be enough time to call in the doctor and let work know that we’ll be unavailable for a few days,” I replied.  “I’ll pick up whatever supplies we might need next week so that we’ll be prepared.  I did purchase a digital thermometer before I came home, since I don’t think we have one here.”

He smiled shakily at me.  “Thanks, Sam.  I don’t think I’d be able to deal with this shit without your support.”

I moved around to the other side of the island and put my arms around him.  “I’ll always be here for you, Dean, for as long as you want me.  And we’ll find a way through this.”

He leaned against me briefly before stepping back.  “Okay, now outta my kitchen now if you wanna eat in an hour!”

After dinner, Dean first read through the instructions that came with his license before returning to his research.  I couldn’t complain though, as he sat with me on the living room couch as I watched TV, stretched out with his head in my lap.  I alternated between running my fingers through his soft blond hair and rubbing his neck and shoulders, my attention more on him than on _Planet Earth_.

I reflected once again on how fortunate I was.  The omega might not be willing yet to resume sexual relations, but he was as eager as always for other forms of affection—hugs, kisses on the cheek or forehead, cuddling, and non-sensual caresses.  Considering that he was well within his rights to not want me to touch him at all, I was more than happy to take what I could get.

Eventually he closed his book, sat up, and turned to face me.  “Listen, dude, there’s something that’s been worrying me lately.”

I lifted his feet onto my lap and started to rub them before replying.  “What’s that?”

“We obviously ain’t been . . . intimate in a few days, and I dunno how soon I’ll be comfortable going there.  And we weren’t exactly getting it on as frequently as usual for a little while even before the big fight.  So what happens when you get hungry if I still ain’t ready?” he asked.

I thought for a moment, knowing that his concern was for me, not himself.  “I don’t want to push you into anything before you’re sure about it.  So I suppose I’ll go back to the club if necessary.  _Not_ to have sex with anyone else though!  I’m serious about the two of us becoming true partners and lovers, so I _don’t_ intend to be unfaithful to you.  My thought is to find some other couples and . . . _watch_.  It’s not quite as satisfying as participating directly, but it’ll get the job done.  You’re welcome to come with me and make sure I behave.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot!”  His cheeks flushed, and he coughed to clear his throat.  “I trust you not to do anything I wouldn’t like, Sam.  But I still might wanna go with you!”

I laughed and tugged him closer.  “You like that idea, huh?”

Dean shifted until he was straddling my lap and put his arms over my shoulder.  He then kissed me deeply, licking at my lips before pulling back.  “Yeah, I do, but I like the idea of feeding you _myself_ better.  Guess we’ll hafta see how I’m feeling by the time you need it.”

He gazed at me intently.  “I gotta say, I didn’t expect you to take what I said earlier so seriously or that you’d do so much so soon.  Just five days ago I was feeling trapped and taken for granted, but now I got a kick-ass job, free run of almost the whole damn city, and control over most of my life again.  All I need is my Baby back and this fucking collar gone, and everything would be just ‘bout _perfect_!  And it . . . it ain’t just that.  I haven’t forgotten what you told me ‘bout how you feel—”

“You can just _say_ it, you know.  That I said I love you,” I interrupted gently while stroking his sides.

“Shuddup!  I _know_ what you said, doofus!” he shot back, a blush staining his cheeks again.  He took a moment to compose himself before continuing.  “I . . . I didn’t say before how much that means to me, Sam.  And you giving me the only things that can hurt you, _trusting_ me with that kinda power over you . . . That’s gone a long way towards showing me that you _do_ respect me.  There’s still shit we gotta work on, but maybe it won’t take as long as I thought.”

“You take as much time as you need, Dean,” I murmured.  “I’m willing to wait.  I’ll wait for you forever if I have to.”

I then leaned forward and claimed his lips, which parted to let my tongue in.  Despite his reaction as the aphrodisiac in my saliva kicked in, I knew he wasn’t interested in anything truly sexual yet.  I focused on kissing his mouth, along his jaw, and down his neck and on caressing his sides and chest, determined to show my affection with my lips and hands.  He moaned and kissed and caressed back just as enthusiastically.

After several enjoyable minutes of this, he sat back with a regretful look in his eyes.  “Sorry, man, but I—I gotta go take a cold shower or something.”

“It’s okay—I get it.  I’m thrilled with whatever you’re willing to give me.”  I gave him one last kiss before dropping my hands. 

He groaned and stood, then made his way to his room.  I went to my own bathroom, where I leisurely took care of my own arousal in a hot shower.  It was still too early to go to sleep, so I threw a robe on over my t-shirt and boxers and returned to the living room and my neglected documentary.  He rejoined me shortly after, dressed in his own sleepwear, and we watched TV curled together for a couple hours before retiring to bed.

The following morning, Dean prepared to leave the apartment on his own for the first time.  His excitement was palpable—he hummed cheerfully while cooking up biscuits, sausage gravy, and poached eggs for breakfast and smiled happily while gathering up his things after finishing his meal.  I did my best to hide my own trepidation, not wanting to ruin his good mood.

I apparently didn’t do a good enough job though, since he grabbed hold of both of my hands.  “Quit worrying, dude!  The places I’m going today are only a few blocks from here, so they’re all in safe, well-populated areas.  You, Benny, and Crowley are on speed-dial on my phone if I need help.  Plus I’ve got the panic button you gave me back in the beginning _and_ the spray and _gris-gris_ bag we picked up the other day from Rowena’s shop.  I’m gonna be _fine_ , okay?”

The spray he was referring to was a small canister filled with an extremely potent pepper spray—supposedly strong enough to incapacitate a grizzly bear—mixed with salt, holy water, dead man’s blood, and silver nitrate.  The _gris-gris_ bag contained a lodestone, horseshoe nail, cat’s-eye shell, bone skull bead, goofer dust, devil’s shoestring, and angelica root wrapped in red flannel and anointed with van-van oil.  Both had been purchased at the same store where I’d acquired the oil of vervain and birch stake and were designed to protect against or drive away a wide variety of supernatural creatures should they have ill intent.

I squeezed his hands and sighed.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I know you can take care of yourself and that you won’t take any unnecessary risks.  It’s simply going to take time to get over my insecurities.  I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“You didn’t, Sammy.  It ain’t a _bad_ thing to be concerned ‘bout my safety.  In fact, it’s kinda nice to know someone else cares, after years of Bobby being the only one.  Anyways, I’ll give you a call ‘round noon to see if you wanna meet me for lunch.”  He reached up to give me a closed-mouth but lingering kiss and then left.

I headed into the library and tried to do some reading but found myself unable to concentrate.  The rational part of my brain might understand that Dean was perfectly safe running his errands, but the more instinctual side wouldn’t stop fretting about everything that could potentially go wrong.  I eventually gave up on the books and decided to take a swim to distract myself.  I changed into a pair of trunks and went outside.

The terrace was a far cry from the rather spartan space it has been two months ago.  The two large planters closest to the kitchen were full of tomatoes, peppers, beans, and other vegetables, while a third was lush with fragrant herbs.  The rest of the planter beds were bursting with vibrant flowers and other decorative plants and shrubs, and larger bushes and small trees stood in ornate pots arranged along the walls.  The seating and dining areas were adorned with colorful patterned cushions and rugs, a wrought iron pergola over the main seating section, and strings of fairy lights and paper lanterns stretched between the building and outer walls.  The grill in turn had been transformed into the beginnings of an outdoor kitchen with the addition of a food-prep station with drawers and cabinets for storage, bar center with sink, and compact refrigerator with freezer.  Patio heaters and dual-use fans with misters were strategically set up to provide a comfortable environment.

I admired all the work the omega had put into turning the terrace into a warm, inviting place, effort that was reflected in the redecorating he’d done inside the apartment as well, and hoped that someday soon he’d be willing to consider this his home too.  After a few minutes, I shook off these thoughts and walked over to the pool, where I set down a towel on a nearby lounge chair before diving in.  I began swimming laps, determined to see if tiring out my body would settle my mind.  I continued for over an hour, then got out and drowsed on the lounge chair for a while.  Eventually I returned indoors to clean up.

I’d just emerged from the bathroom and started to dress when my phone rang.  Recognizing Dean’s new number, I hastily picked up.  “Hey man, is it noon already?  How’s your shopping been going?”

The smile in his voice was obvious as he replied.  “Yeah, it’s ‘bout a quarter ‘til—time flies and all that shit.  Everything’s been great!  There’s a little Vietnamese restaurant five blocks from the apartment that looks interesting.  You wanna meet me there?”

“Sure!  Give me twenty minutes to get ready and walk over,” I said before hanging up.

Dean was already seated at a booth when I walked into the restaurant, and I could see several bags on the seat beside him.  He beamed happily as I sat down across from him and picked up a menu.  “Man, who knew I’d be so fucking thrilled just to go out and do a little shopping?  But the past coupla hours have been _awesome_!”

I grinned back because his joy was contagious.  “I’m glad, Dean.  So where have you gone?”

Before he could answer, our waitress came up to take our orders.  We started with _bánh xèo_ , crispy crepes with shrimp, pork, and bean sprouts.  I ordered _phở gà nủớng_ , beef noodle soup with grilled chicken, and _gỏi du dủ bò hoậc tôm_ , green papaya salad with grilled shrimp, and he got _bánh mì bò nủớng_ , a grilled beef sandwich with cucumber, jalapeno peppers, and pickled vegetables.

Once she’d left, he said, “I browsed through a coupla clothing stores and bought a few shirts and jeans and shit.  I _still_ ain’t used to how fucking expensive it is ‘round here!  Maybe after the restaurant opens, I can see if prices are more reasonable in that neighborhood.  I found a kitchen specialty store and picked up a nifty thing or two.  Also got some movies and music.  The music store had a pretty extensive vinyl section, but I’d have to get a decent turntable first.”

“It sounds like you had a fairly productive morning,” I commented.  “Are you coming home after lunch?”

“Not quite—I wanna hit the Whole Foods nearby to get groceries for the next few days.  Would you mind taking these bags with you when you leave?  Otherwise it’s gonna be a bitch getting everything back.”  He then gave me a knowing look.  “So how badly were you freaking out while I was gone?”

“I was a bit of a mess at first—couldn’t focus on anything,” I admitted ruefully.  “I know that nothing bad is going to happen, but I still couldn’t stop worrying completely this morning.  I finally had to tire myself out swimming laps to get my brain to shut up.”

Dean reached over and patted my hand.  “You’ll get better at this, Sam.  Don’t worry—I ain’t pissed at you.  I figure it’s gonna take some time to get over the overprotective alpha thing.  You’re actually doing _way_ better so far than I expected.”

“Thanks for putting up with my crap.  And sure, I can take your loot back with me.  I’ll leave the bags on your bed, if that’s okay.”

He nodded.  “That’s fine.  This last bit of shopping shouldn’t take long—less than an hour, probably.”

The waitress showed up at that point with our appetizer, followed soon by our main course.  As we ate, Dean described his shopping excursion in more detail, and we also discussed more of his plans for the restaurant.  After finishing our meal and paying the bill—which he insisted on splitting—we started to walk back together since Whole Foods was on the way.  Outside the store, he handed me his bags, except for a few cloth shopping bags he’d brought from home, and I continued on to our apartment building.

As predicted, he returned about forty-five minutes after I did.  I helped him put the groceries away and then was shooed out of the kitchen so he could start cooking.  Dinner that night was gourmet tater tots made with shallots, chives, and smoked paprika, New England clam chowder with oyster crackers, grilled salmon glazed with honey, butter, lemon, garlic, and cilantro, roasted butternut squash with brown sugar butter and _fines herbes_ , wild rice with porcini and cremini mushrooms, and Key Lime pie.

Afterwards we went on a walk together since it was still light out.  I suspected he might’ve preferred to go out by himself again but decided to take pity on my frazzled nerves.  To show my appreciation for his thoughtfulness, I steered him towards a nearby park, which was considered one of the loveliest in the city.  As we meandered along the footpaths, I found myself enjoying my companion’s pleased reactions even more than our surroundings.  Once we got back, he showed me his purchases before putting them away.  He then continued with his reading, while I played _Crimson Skies_ on the Xbox for a couple of hours.

We retired to our rooms not long after to prepare for sleep.  As usual, Dean curled around me as soon as he joined me in bed, and I wrapped an arm around him to hold him close. 

I pressed a kiss to his temple and asked, “Are you planning to go out again tomorrow?”

He shook his head.  “Nah, I got too much to do before I meet with Ellen, so I’m gonna stay in and work on shit for the restaurant.  There’ll be plenty of time later to check things out on my own.”

“Are you going to take my car or public transportation to get to the bar on Monday?”  I tried not to let my concern show in my voice.

“Neither.  I want her to try the dishes I’ve been preparing, which why I’ve been saving samples of everything.  It’d be a major pain in the ass to try to bring all of that to the bar, so I’m gonna call her and ask if she can come here instead,” he replied.  “If talking with Ellen don’t take all day, I might take Juliet out to that park in the afternoon.  Which reminds me that I hafta get a key to his place from Crowley.”

“I imagine you’ll have to go there soon enough to help her with interviews, inspect the progress on the new kitchen, et cetera.  When you do . . . it’s your call of course, but I’d feel more comfortable if you drove rather than taking transit,” I said carefully.

His brows drew together.  “You take the subway every day to get to work, Sam.”

“Yeah, but the other passengers are less likely to bother an alpha of my size, particularly one wearing a suit which costs as much as most of them make in a month.  Besides, my office is only two stops away from here.  There’s no direct route to Harvelle’s however, so you’d have to spend close to an hour and take at least a couple transfers to get there.  Driving would be faster and more convenient as well as safer,” I pointed out.

“’Cept I’d hafta use a soulless yuppie-mobile to get there,” he grumbled.  “I’ll think ‘bout it, okay?  If I _do_ agree, it’s only gonna be to make you feel better, _not_ ‘cause I’m afraid or any bullshit like that.  But you’re gonna hafta learn to ease up eventually, dude.”

“I know, and I’m grateful that you’re cutting me so much slack while I’m trying to get there.”  I kissed him again, this time behind his ear.  “On a lighter topic, since you liked the park so much, how about we have a picnic there next weekend?”

He grinned at that.  “Sounds like an awesome idea!  Though do we even _have_ a picnic basket?”

“Don’t worry about that!  You prepare the food, and I’ll take care of the basket and other picnic supplies,” I replied.

Dean smiled again and kissed my lips, keeping his closed to avoid an inadvertent dose of my saliva, and ran his hands up my sides.  I in turn nibbled along the curve of his ear and down the column of his neck while sliding my hands under his shirt to stroke his abdomen and chest.  He turned his head and arched his back to give my mouth and hands better access and scratched his fingers down my back.  We continued to exchange kisses and caresses for several minutes, both of us basking in each other’s affectionate attention.

Eventually I pulled back a little and looked down at his contented expression.  “Feeling good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Sammy.  This whole week has been good, even with the shitty start,” he said as he settled against my shoulder.

I put my arms around him.  “I think we both needed that unpleasant jolt to make us recognize that things need to change.  But we’re working through it together, and our relationship will be much stronger as a result.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one read this on an empty stomach! This chapter and the next are going to have a lot of descriptions of food as Dean works through ideas for his menu. Sam in turn has had to spend more time in his gym to make sure he can still fit into his expensive suits after testing all these recipes. :)
> 
> The contents of Dean's gris-gris bag are partly taken from protective items used on the show and partly from a website I found which sells gris-gris and mojo bags, including ones for protection and driving away evil. The canister of supernatural Mace obviously contains substances known to repel or injure supernatural creatures in canon. Add in the panic button and Dean's ongoing martial arts training (and his years of barroom brawls and fighting off unwanted attention), and our omega should be pretty well-defended when on his own. Not that this will stop poor Sam from worrying . . . 
> 
> My surgery will be early tomorrow morning, so if all goes well I should be back home by early afternoon and back on my feet by the following day. Next week's update should go up on Monday as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day.


	25. Chapter 25

Monday started out normally enough.  Dean got up with me and made breakfast, this time breakfast burritos and fruit salsa, while I showered and got dressed.  He also had my lunch—a Reuben sandwich and Waldorf salad—packed in an insulated bag.  We chatted about inconsequential things while we ate, and then he saw me off with a light kiss and a smile.

It wasn’t until I sat down at my desk, docked my laptop, and fired it up that I realized this would be the first time that I’d have no real way to check up on Dean or see what he was doing for the entire day.  Like during his solo outing on Saturday, my intellectual side knew that he would be perfectly fine, but my emotional side immediately started to fret about what might be going on while I was away.

Fortunately before my nerves could get really worked up, Lenore came by and knocked on my door.  Once I acknowledged her, she entered and sat in one of the chairs across from me.  “Alright buster, spill the beans!  I haven’t heard from you since last Monday night.  How are things going with Dean?”

I leaned back in my chair and smiled.  “Surprisingly well, actually.  I took _all_ your advice—yours and Benny’s.  I picked up some things on Tuesday and took down the containment spell and most of the cameras.  Then I sat him down, apologized, and I . . . I told him how I _truly_ felt about him.  I gave him the dismissal spell, keys to the apartment and my car, and his own cell phone and laptop.  And like Benny suggested, I gave him the means to defend himself against me.  I also submitted an application for a trusted companion license for him and bribed a couple officials at the Security Commission to get it rushed through.”

“That’s right—both Benny and I got calls from someone there last week asking us to vouch for him,” she commented.  “We both of course told her how trustworthy and reliable he is and how much he cares about you.  So how did he react?”

“Dean took everything _really_ well.  He was upset at first and then disbelieving, but he started to accept that I meant what I said after seeing what I’d done so far.  To tell the truth, he was pretty amazing.  He’d decided on his own to give me another chance before I actually talked to him—he even took apart that radio he was building.  He assured me that he wasn’t leaving and that he wanted to make our relationship work too.  We still haven’t been . . . intimate yet, but we’re back to sharing a bed, kissing, and being affectionate again—which I wasn’t expecting so soon.”

She asked, “Did he mention how _he_ felt?”

“He didn’t say outright that he loved me, but he _did_ tell me he cared about me more than anyone else.  The fact that he’s willing to give me a second shot, and how much he opened up to me, says a lot.  But I still need to regain his trust after all I’ve done, so there’s plenty to work on,” I replied.  “Though I think baring my heart and demonstrating my trust in him by offering the means to incapacitate or kill me went a long way towards showing him I’m serious about changing, maybe even more than offering him his freedom.”

“What happened next?”

“The following day we went to Crowley’s bank so Dean could open his own account, and then we went to Harvelle’s.  The first time we visited there, Ellen offered him a job after he helped her in the kitchen.  I . . . I didn’t tell him about it at the time because I didn’t think I could risk allowing it.  But I realized after talking to you that I was wrong to keep such an opportunity from him.  So I took him back to see if the offer was still open.  She was not only interested, she offered him the position of head chef in the new restaurant,” I continued.

“Good for Dean!” Lenore exclaimed.  “He accepted, of course.”

“He did, though it took a bit of convincing from both Ellen and me.  Dean has some major self-esteem issues, which isn’t surprising given his past,” I said.  “But he’s thrown himself headfirst into this job—he’s been studying the plans and other information Ellen sent him, reading books on restaurant management and how to run a kitchen, and planning a menu for the past several days, with me as his well-fed guinea pig.  He’s going to be _great_ at this!

“Anyways, besides the bank, the bar, and the bookstore, we went to the DMV to get the address on his driver’s license updated, and to Rowena’s store to get him some better defenses—I bought him a protective _gris-gris_ bag and what’s essentially supernatural Mace.  On Friday I picked up his companion license, and Saturday he went out on his own for the first time and did some shopping.  Ellen is coming over today to discuss plans for the restaurant with him further and try out his menu,” I concluded.

She looked at me shrewdly.  “And how are _you_ taking all this?”

I sighed.  “It’s been a mixed bag.  I’m of _course_ grateful that Dean’s allowing me to make amends, and I’m _ecstatic_ at how well everything’s going so far.  But it’s _not_ been easy letting go.  I can’t seem to stop worrying about what could happen if I’m not around to watch over him.  It’s not that I don’t trust _him_ —it’s the _others_ out there, the ones who could hurt him, that concern me."

“I understand how you feel, Sam,” Lenore said sympathetically.  “My nest-mates are my family, and I love them dearly.  I would do _anything_ to keep them safe, and not just the ones who are young or vulnerable.  Do you know how _hard_ it is sometimes to let Benny or Len put themselves at risk on a daily basis?  And Charlie of course is my life, and I can _never_ forget how human and fragile she is.

“But if I truly love them, I _can’t_ smother them.  I _have_ to believe they can take care of themselves and let them live their own lives.  There’s a fine line between being protective and being overbearing, and you already know the dangers of crossing it.  Trying to hold on too tight, even with the best intentions, _isn’t_ the way to keep someone’s love.

“In Dean’s case, he’s been on his own for years and managed to stay out of serious trouble until his run-in with the Food Market—which led him to you, so we can’t consider that _all_ bad.  And before that, he survived whatever terrible things his father did to him while only a child.  He’s a very strong and capable man, and you have to give him more credit for being able to protect _himself_ ,” she told me.

“I get what you’re saying, and I know I need to ease up.  But like I said, it’s not easy!” I retorted.  “I’m lucky that Dean’s been pretty understanding so far.  I just hope he can put up with this for however long it takes me to get over my anxiety.”

“Don’t worry—you’ll get there.  You just need time to get used to these changes.  It’s barely been a week, after all.  Cut yourself some slack and try to relax,” she advised.

“I’ll try.  Thanks, Lenore.  I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said gratefully.

As she smiled and rose, my phone buzzed with a text from Dean.  _How are you doing, man?  Ellen just showed up, so I’m gonna be busy for a while.  But if you’re feeling freaked out, call me, okay?_

“Wow, I _so_ don’t deserve him!”  At her inquiring look, I showed Lenore the message.

“But you _do_ , Sam.  Dean wouldn’t have fallen for you if you weren’t such a kind, decent guy.  Don’t forget that.”  She waved and left.

I texted back, _I’m fine for now—Lenore talked some sense into me again.  Good luck with the meeting with Ellen, and let me know how it goes._

Feeling less tense, I was able to concentrate on work instead of worrying excessively about Dean.  It helped that he continued to message me throughout the day, telling me how Ellen approved of the menu concept and thought the recipe samples were delicious, how they discussed kitchen layout ideas and planned to do a walkthrough of the space tomorrow, and how he took Juliet to the park for a run in the afternoon after Ellen left.  I was in a fairly good mood by the time I left the office.

Dean was also in a pleased state of mind when I got home.  He was humming Metallica while setting the table for dinner, which included fried green tomatoes with buttermilk blue cheese dressing, grilled country ham steaks with a pineapple and brown sugar glaze, slow-cooked collard greens with bacon and caramelized onions, mashed potato casserole with sour cream, cream cheese, chives, scallions, and cheddar cheese, and maple bourbon pecan pie. 

I gave him a quick kiss before admiring the spread.  “Is this more from your planned menu?”

“Yeah, I still got a buncha recipes to try out,” he answered as he put down some plates.  “So you’re gonna be my test subject for a while, dude.”

“Well, everything looks and smells incredible!  Give me a few minutes to get out of my suit, and I’ll be right back.”  I hurried off to my bedroom to change clothes and soon returned to the dining room.  After sitting and filling my plate, I inquired, “When are you going over to the bar to look at the kitchen space?”

“I’m gonna head over tomorrow morning and meet Ellen there.  Any yeah, I’ll drive your shitty car to keep you from worrying.”  He suddenly smirked.  “Maybe I’ll do you a favor and leave the damn thing somewhere that it’ll get jacked.  You can then use the insurance money to get yourself something that doesn’t suck, like a kickass Shelby or Corvette.”

“You do realize that the car you keep mocking is one of the best sports sedans on the market—it’s more powerful and handles better than most muscle cars while still having decent gas mileage and a functional back seat,” I replied in an amused tone.

“And it’s ‘bout as interesting to look at as a loaf of white bread, dude,” Dean shot back.  After focusing on his food for a couple minutes, he looked up with a more serious expression.  “Are you sure you were okay today?  I was kinda worried you’d be wigging out from spending most of the day apart with the cords cut.”

“You’re asking me if _I’m_ okay?  I should be the one asking _you_ that after everything that’s happened!” I said in surprise.

“Yeah, but most of what went down this past week has worked out in _my_ benefit, Sam,” he pointed out.  “It ain’t been as easy for _you_.  And it ain’t right for me to get what I want if you ain’t happy ‘bout it.”

“Whatever makes you happy _is_ what I want, Dean,” I assured him.  “Honestly, I’m amazed at how well everything’s gone the last few days.  It may take me a little while to get used to our new dynamic, but I _do_ know that these changes are for the better.  And I appreciate how patient you’re being with me.”

He smiled and seemed more relaxed.  “That’s fine, man.  But if anything _does_ start to bug you, you gotta let me know.  After all, not talking enough ‘bout stuff is part of what got us into this mess.”

After we finished our meal and cleaned up, he didn’t immerse himself in further preparations for his new job for a change.  Instead he joined me in the media room, where we watched a couple of the recent Marvel movies that he’d picked up the other day.  We later retired to my bedroom, where we spent a good bit of time pleasurably making out before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

The rest of the week went by in a similar manner.  While I was at work, Dean split his time between the apartment, his usual activities now supplemented by his research for work, and going out—to the restaurant to meet with Ellen, to the park to exercise Juliet, and to various other places to explore, shop, or visit friends.  He contacted me regularly throughout the day primarily by text, often with anecdotes or pictures related to whatever he was doing.  I quickly became a fan of this new level of communication, as I got to experience not only what he was doing but also what he was thinking and feeling in an far more open and engaging way than the intrusive surveillance of before.  I still worried, of course, but not as badly as without his messages.

Meals continued to be further experiments with the restaurant menu.  The lunches he made for me consisted of a different kind of sandwich each day accompanied by a small side, soup, or salad—muffuleta sandwich with a bowl of gumbo, BLT with a Cobb salad, cheesesteak with parmesan waffle fries, and club sandwich with buffalo wings.  I also brought leftovers from previous meals to share at work as a form of free advertisement, which resulted in quite a number of my coworkers wanting to know more about Dean and the restaurant.  Dinners were a mix of Americana fare—grilled Delmonico steak accompanied by roasted broccoli and loaded scalloped potatoes, baked three-cheese macaroni with leeks and sundried tomatoes, slow-cooked pot roast with carrots, onions, celery, potatoes, and pan gravy, and chicken pot pie with mushrooms, shallots, carrots, and peas in a sherry and crème fraiche gravy and puff pastry crust.  And there was of course more pie—apple, pumpkin, Boston cream, and peach cobbler.

Saturday afternoon we loaded up the picnic basket I’d bought earlier in the week and a small cooler and walked over to the park.  Once there, we wandered for a while, admiring the landscape and watching the other people enjoying their surroundings.  We made our way to the small lake near the further end of the park, where Dean then carefully explored the shoreline, intent on finding the most ideal spot for our picnic.  My brow rose a bit when he finally stopped and began spreading the blanket—the location he chose had a clear view of the water, but the distance from any footpaths and the placement of the nearby foliage would make us difficult to be seen by passersby.

I decided not to comment on my companion’s apparent interest in privacy and instead helped him unpack and set up our goodies.  Our new picnic basket provided sturdy but stylish place settings for two, a thermos of tomato-rice soup with shredded chicken and light cream, containers of grilled cheese sandwiches with caramelized onions and rosemary butter and of baked ranch steak fries, and a chilled bottle of pinot grigio in an insulated sleeve.  From the cooler, we produced Caesar salad with pine nuts and blue cheese crumbles, an assortment of sliced fruits, lemon meringue pie, and cans of soda.

“My mom used to make this for me,” he commented as he poured the soup into the mugs that came with the thermos.  “It’s one of the few memories I have of her.  She’d make this whenever I wasn’t feeling well, and I learned to make it for Sammy when he got sick.  It was a way of keeping her alive for him, since he was too little to remember her himself.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me then,” I said seriously while serving up the salad.  “And hopefully you’ll be able to share even more with your brother soon.  Once we can demonstrate a continued pattern of good behavior while you’re out on your own, I can request a permit to take you out of the city the next time the firm sends me to the San Francisco area.”

“Huh, you’re right!  I didn’t think how the shit we’re changing might help me see Sammy faster.”  He sipped at his soup and then gave me a curious look.  “What ‘bout _your_ family, man?  Ya know, for all the complaints you gave ‘bout _me_ keeping secrets, you actually talk even _less_ ‘bout your past!”

“Sorry about that!  I wasn’t trying to be closemouthed—I just don’t think about it that often,” I replied contritely.  “And I want to apologize _again_ for pressuring you before.  I should’ve respected your boundaries and waited until you were ready to talk.”

“Don’t beat yourself up ‘bout it, Sam.  It’s probably for the best that this crap is out in the open now—for us _and_ for me.  And it ain’t like what I was afraid of—you ain’t been treating me any different now that you know.”  He bumped my shoulder gently with his.  “Now I wanna hear ‘bout your family, or at least whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”

I thought for a moment before speaking.  “There’s not much I can say about my father.  We’re a rather solitary species to begin with, and incubi and succubi generally only get together to reproduce.  We can’t feed from each other, you see, so sex between us tends to be less a pleasure and more an obligation.  I think I remember my father coming to see me no more than five times when I was a child.  When he stopped visiting, my mother and I just assumed he’d moved on.  It wasn’t until a few years later than we heard he’d run afoul of a hunter and had been killed.

“My mother . . . she was different.  She was quite gregarious for a succubus and enjoyed the company of others.  She was the madam of a high-end brothel, so I was raised in the company of her courtesans and their clients.  That’s one of the major reasons why I’m better socialized than most of my kind.  Our young usually don’t stick around much past early puberty, when the need for sexual energy first develops.  Mama and I, however, stayed together for several decades.”  I smiled in reminiscence.  “You’d be _amazed_ how much you can learn in that environment—human behavior, business, politics, and of course sex.”

Dean’s expression was rapt.  “Dude, who’d have ever thought _you_ grew up in a ‘house of ill-repute!’  Did you ever . . . _work_ there?”

I laughed.  “Oh no, Mama never allowed that!  I had a couple of ‘special friends’ among the young men in her employ, and others throughout the city, but I never took actual clients.  She and I both wanted more for me.  That’s why I finally left—when I was old enough to pass for eighteen, I went away to a university halfway across the country and then started a career there.  We kept in contact through letters, telegraphs, and eventually telephone, and I visited at least once a year, but communication and travel weren’t as easy back then.

“One day I got a call that the brothel had been attacked.  My mother, most of her girls and boys, and even a few customers, who were primarily human, had been killed, and the building had been set on fire.  We soon discovered that a group of hunters had found out about it and decided to take it out, even though no one was getting hurt—Mama had _always_ trained her people in how to feed without injuring the clients.  I gave up my practice and spent the next several years tracking down those assholes.  I ended up killing three of them and making a fourth wish he’d never been born, and the rest vanished.  So I guess I wasn’t entirely truthful when I told you I’d never hurt anyone in anger,” I concluded grimly.

“I get it, probably better than anyone else.  Grief, rage, and revenge can drive people to do things they never would’ve before—just look at my dad.”  He put his sandwich down and hugged me.  “Fuck, Sammy, I’m so sorry ‘bout your mom!  I can see why you ain’t a big fan of hunters now.”

“I _loathe_ the bastards!  I know that communities like ours often rely on them to get rid of the uncontrollable elements before they bring public attention down on the rest of us, and I suppose that _some_ hunters may be decent people.  But overall they’re ignorant, violent, unmanageable _savages_ who fear anything different and do more harm than good!”  I took a deep breath to calm myself.  “What happened to my parents was a long time ago though, and normally I have a better hold on my emotions.  I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

“No need to apologize, dude.  Come with me—I got an idea to cheer you up.”  He stood and held out a hand.

He led me to the edge of the water, where we removed our footwear and rolled up our jeans.  We then waded into the lake and tossed bits of sandwich, fries, and fruit to the eager ducks and carp that flocked over to us.  Once our supply of scraps ran out and our fickle admirers abandoned us, he grinned at me impishly and kicked water over my legs, instigating an enthusiastic splash war.  We returned to the shore soaked and laughing, stripped down to our underwear, and spread our clothes out in the sun to dry.  We both sat back down on the blanket, and I refilled our wine glasses.

“It’s a good thing you found us this secluded spot,” I noted as I leaned back on my elbows.  “I can’t afford to be arrested for public indecency!”

“That’s kinda what I had in mind when I picked it.”  He bent over and kissed me with unmistakable intent.

It became readily apparent from his heated kiss, heavy gaze, and hurried breathing that the omega was interested in more than a simple make-out session.  I’d been letting him take the lead in the past several days as far as how the physical side of our relationship progressed.  He’d been just as eager, if not more so sometimes, as before in his pursuit of kisses, embraces, and other signs of affection.  This though was the first time in nearly two weeks that he’d indicated he wanted something more intimate than light petting.

Nevertheless, I caught a hold of his shoulders and asked, “Are you sure, Dean?  It hasn’t exactly been that long, so I understand if—”

He threw me a fondly exasperated glance.  “Really, Sam?  Yeah, I’m _sure_.  How long _ain’t_ what matters.  You’ve been busting your balls to make me happy and to support me through all this new shit, and more time ain’t gonna tell me more than I already know ‘bout how much you care.  And I hope I’ve made it clear to _you_ that I ain’t going anywhere, that here with you is right where I wanna be.  _That’s_ what’s really important here.  Yeah, we still have crap to work on, but not enough to keep holding back.

“And to be honest, I _want_ it—I _miss_ making love with you.  You now know the kinda fucked-up shit I went through before, and how being with you is the first time I’ve ever actually _enjoyed_ anything to do with sex.  So I wanna keep going an—and take _back_ what those douchebags tried to ruin.  We on the same page now?”  He kissed me again, his tongue pushing insistently at my lips.

I opened my mouth to let him in and pulled him down on top of me, and he began running his hands along my torso.  I in turn reached down and pushed our damp undergarments out of the way, then slotted my cock against his and wrapped both hands around them.  I normally preferred to lead in with more foreplay, but I needed to take the edge off the hunger that had been building over the past several days.  Dean didn’t seem to mind though—he made a pleased noise, gripped my shoulders, and rolled his hips in time with my strokes.  I groaned and worked our members vigorously as his pleasure rose and crested, and he shuddered and ejaculated after a few more jerks.  Feeling his hot seed splash against my skin was enough to tip me over and follow him into my own climax.

He collapsed against me with a satiated sigh.  “Oh yeah, that was _awesome_!  Though it was kinda embarrassing how quickly I shot my load.”

“I guess we were both more eager than we realized!  We’ll last longer the next time though,” I replied before reaching up and giving him a passionate kiss.

He reciprocated enthusiastically, and we spent the next several minutes exchanging kisses and caresses.  I then pushed him onto his back and slid down until my head was over his groin.  I started by licking his skin clean of our mingled cum, alternating between long, broad strokes over his stomach and thighs and little kitten laps on his cock and balls.  He swore and dug his fingers into my hair when I sucked on his glans briefly before swallowing his length down.  I wrapped my fingers around his scrotum and gently rolled his testicles between them while bobbing my mouth up and down his shaft and swirling my tongue against its soft skin.  He tugged on my hair and thrust lightly into my mouth until he suddenly arched his back and came down my throat with a shout.

“Lemme, Sammy,” he said hoarsely as I sat up and wiped at my lips, reaching a hand towards me.

I let him tug me up his body until he could curl his fingers around my engorged cock.  He began stroking it rapidly, using the fluid leaking from the tip to slick his hand.  He looked thoroughly debauched—his hair tousled, his skin flushed, his eyes languid, his lips swollen, his body loose-limbed except for the hand moving swiftly up and down my member.  It didn’t take long before I stiffened and shot all over his chest.

As I gradually came down from the euphoria of both my orgasm and my feeding, I felt humbled—this was the first time Dean had gotten me off directly.  I hadn’t pushed when we’d made love before, figuring that he had his reasons.  Now knowing what he’d suffered, I completely understood his earlier reluctance to participate in what to him had previously been forced acts.  To be willing to move past that, to give himself to me in this way, meant more than any words could express.

“Thank you, Dean,” was all I said though, not wanting to dampen his mood by bringing up his past.

He smiled up at me drowsily before fishing a napkin out of the picnic basket to clean us off.  “Glad you liked it, man.  Did you feed?”

I slid off of him and laid down on the blanket beside him, pulling him into my arms.  “Just a little bit each time—I didn’t want to tire you out too much.  I would’ve held off if I could, but it’s getting too close to when I need to feed for real again.”

“You shoulda told me before that you were getting hungry, Sam!  Don’t worry though—I’ll take care of you over the next coupla days.”  He pressed a kiss to my collarbone before settling against my shoulder for a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally got to take Dean on the picnic he was thinking of before the big fight! And they're getting back on track with the physical side of their relationship. Don't worry though, they both realize they still have plenty to work on. But Sam has opened Dean up to enjoying sex, and he's earned enough of Dean's trust back to feel comfortable being intimate again. Oh, and the boys will be getting an unexpected--and not necessarily entirely welcome--surprise in the next chapter . . .
> 
> For those wanting to know more about Sam's backstory, you've now learned a bit about his parents. I figured what better way for a succubus to hide in plain sight and feed without attracting attention than in a brothel, so his mom became the madam for a house of supernatural courtesans--other succubi, incubi, vamps, etc. looking for a safe way to blend in. So Sam certainly had an interesting childhood! And we now also know why he feels so vehemently against hunters.
> 
> The past couple of weeks have been fairly productive writing-wise, and I've managed to get my buffer up to 3 chapters. :) The next update should go up on Monday afternoon or evening as usual. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer.


	26. Chapter 26

Today was definitely turning into one of those days.  First my alarm didn’t go off, causing me to oversleep by nearly an hour.  Then in my rush to get out the door before I was even later for work, I forgot to grab the lunch Dean had packed for me.  When he came by the office later to bring it to me, Ruby decided to be bitchy and tried to pretend she hadn’t gotten the call from Reception that he was waiting in the lobby.  He eventually called me directly, and I went to get him myself.  Our subsequent lunch together, since he’d brought along food for himself as well, was pleasant, but the chewing out I had to give Ruby after he left was not.  A couple hours later, the man I’d hired to translate some articles on alternative treatments for omega heat finally delivered them.  My heart sank as I read through them, and I knew I had to see Dean right away to discuss the ramifications.

Something seemed off as soon as I got to the apartment.  The front door was unlocked and the alarm system disabled, which neither of us ever left like that even when we were home, given what had happened before with Alastair’s goons.  The door to the terrace was wide open, which Dean never allowed—he bitched about letting the A/C out and the bugs in whenever I forgot to close it behind me.  As I approached the open doorway, I heard raised voices and felt fear coming from the omega and anger from whomever he was with.  I dropped both my briefcase and the constraints on my true form before racing onto the terrace.

Dean was by one of the farther planter beds, a spilled bag of fertilizer at his feet.  His back was to me and his fists were clenched as he faced the intruder, an older, bearded man whose scent was unfamiliar.  “—deaf or senile since I last saw you?  How many times do I gotta tell you, I _don’t_ need . . .  What?  What is—oh _shit_!”

By this point, I had gotten close enough to recognize the other man from the picture in Dean’s wallet.  At the same time, he caught sight of me approaching, my shape now more incubus than man.  His eyes widened, then he whipped a gun out from the back of his waistband and tried to aim it at me without hitting Dean.

“ _Hunter_!” I snarled.  “If you have _any_ idea what I am, you know those bullets can’t kill me.”

Bobby swallowed but gamely retorted, “No, but they’ll still hurt like a sonofabitch, and enough pumped into your noggin will incapacitate you long enough to get my boy outta here.  Then I can figure out what kinda goddamn _thing_ you are and come back to finish the job!”

“Hell _no_!  Both of you fucking _stop_ this shit right now!”  Dean stepped up to me, put his hands on my chest, and looked up into my eyes pleadingly.  “Sammy, calm down!  I ain’t in any danger, okay?  Bobby would _never_ hurt me, and you _know_ that.  I _need_ you to get your shit together so we can figure out what to do.”

He then turned to face his foster father, his back now against my chest.  “And _you_ ain’t gonna shoot him unless it’s literally through me, so put the damn gun away!  Sam ain’t gonna hurt me—he was trying to _protect_ me!  And he ain’t gonna hurt _you_ either if you stop acting like a dumbass!  So everyone stuff their _goddamn_ dicks back in their pants before something stupid happens, and I hafta get _really_ mad!”

I put my hands on Dean’s shoulders and took a deep breath, letting his sweet smell ground me enough to regain control over myself.  When my appearance was mostly back to normal, and when Dean didn’t stop glaring at him, Bobby grudgingly stowed his weapon.  Dean relaxed a little at that but still kept himself between me and the hunter, and his apprehension didn’t lessen appreciably.

Dean cautiously took a step away after a moment.  “Alright, can we all chill the fuck out now and talk like we’re sorta civilized adults?  Or at least try to fake it for my sake, okay?”

“Of course, Dean.”  I took his hand and let him lead me over to the loveseat under the pergola.

Bobby followed us over and sat down in the armchair closest to the omega.  “Now, someone wanna explain to me what the _hell_ is going on here?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions here, _hunter_!” I snapped.  “You broke into my home, upset my boyfriend, and pulled a goddamn gun on me!  The _only_ reason you’re still in one piece is that I know how much you mean to Dean.  What the _fuck_ do you think you’re _doing_ here?”

“ _Boyfriend_?  _This_ is the guy you’ve been telling me you’re dating?”  Bobby looked flabbergasted.  “D’ya even know what he _is_?”

“He’s an incubus, and I’ve known _that_ since the first day I met him.  More importantly, he’s a good man who cares a fucking lot ‘bout me, and who I care ‘bout just as much,” Dean replied shortly.  “You still didn’t answer Sam’s question, man.”

“Well, I _thought_ I was here to rescue you, ya idjit!  You don’t think I actually _bought_ that BS ‘bout taking care of the Poughkeepsie thing, did ya?  Don’t try to con a con man, kid.”  Bobby snorted.  “Even with all the messes you got into over the years, you never used that code before, so I knew you were in _serious_ trouble this time.  When you then tried to convince me just a few weeks later that everything was _suddenly_ fine and dandy, I knew something was fishy.  It still sounded like someone was monitoring your calls and emails, you still wouldn’t give me any specifics ‘bout where you were, and you still gave me the runaround ‘bout when you were coming to see me, even to get that car you’re normally so obsessed over!  So I kept searching for you.”

“But how did you _find_ me, Bobby?  I _know_ I didn’t tell you anything that coulda lead you here,” Dean insisted.

“It was sheer dumb luck, actually,” Bobby admitted.  “I tried my _damnedest_ these past few months to track you down, boy—I really did.  I scoured that town where I picked up your car, looking for witnesses or clues ‘bout what happened to you, but I came up with bupkis.  I tried multiple times to trace your calls and emails, but even the best hacker I found couldn’t beat the encryption on ‘em.  Also tried several different methods to scry for you, but something was blocking those too.  I hit up every contact I have—other hunters, law enforcement, psychics, mystics, you name it—hoping one of ‘em could turn up something, with the same lack of success.

“Then ‘bout a month ago, I called to check up on an old friend who used to run a bar for hunters ‘til it got torched.  I hadn’t seen her in person for years, but I still called once in a while to make sure she and her family were doing okay.  So Ellen mentions that she’s renovating her second bar and turning it into a proper restaurant.  Then _you_ called me up a coupla weeks later all excited ‘bout this job as head cook at a new restaurant opening up soon, and there were enough similarities in both conversations that I started to wonder if this was more than a coincidence. 

“So I called the Harvelles back, timing it for when Ellen would be working.  I asked her daughter ‘bout the restaurant, saying that it was time I let go of the past, and that maybe the reopening could be a chance to come see them again.  When we got to talking ‘bout who her momma was hiring, Jo didn’t mention you by name, but she let slip a coupla details that made me pretty sure it was you.  Since I already knew where they’d moved to after the fire, I now had your location narrowed down to a specific city.

“I suspected that whatever had been blocking my previous search efforts would still be a problem from where I was, but maybe they wouldn’t work once I was inside the city.  So I drove here and resumed my pursuit.  I knew your supposed beau Sam was a bigwig at one of the largest law firms in the city, so I started with looking online for that.  That got me his full name and place of employment, and then a little digging and a few carefully placed phone calls got me his home address.  I spent a coupla days studying this building and figuring out the best way to get in.  A spell got me past the security in the parking garage and into the elevator, and then I picked the lock and bypassed the alarm to get in here,” Bobby concluded.

“Fuck!  Well, you’re here now, and there ain’t much we can do to change that.  I appreciate how hard you worked to find me, Bobby, but I _don’t_ need to be rescued anymore.  There ain’t no ‘supposed’ ‘bout my relationship with Sam, and I’m happy here with him,” Dean said firmly.

“Pardon my French, but that’s a load of horseshit!” Bobby scoffed.  “Son, you know I want the best for you.  But you’ve spent the better part of the last decade running as far and as fast as you can from any kinda physical intimacy, _especially_ with alphas.  Now you expect me to believe that you’ve suddenly gotten over your issues and wanna shack up with some alpha I never heard of before—and who ain’t even _human_ to boot—after first telling me you were in danger and needed my help?  You need to tell me what’s _really_ going on, Dean!  I won’t hurt this . . . _Sam_ if that’s what you want, but I promise I can help you break whatever hold he’s got on you.”

“The only ‘hold’ I have over Dean is _love_ , old man.  I’m not keeping him prisoner—he can leave this apartment, leave _me_ , whenever he wants.  He’s staying here by his _own_ choice,” I replied coldly.  “Could it be that you can’t handle the fact that _I_ found a way to care for him and help him begin to heal in just a few months, while your years of inept bumbling _failed_?”

“You got some goddamn _nerve_ talking to me that way, you bastard!” Bobby growled.  “I took care of this boy when he was at his absolute lowest and nursed him back to health when most of the experts didn’t think he’d make it.  Don’t you _dare_ imply that I didn’t do everything I goddamn could for him!”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have _been_ in that situation in the first place if you hadn’t been such a _coward_!” I sneered.  “You can’t tell me that a _child_ repeatedly outwitted a man as clever and observant as you obviously are, so there’s _no way_ that you didn’t suspect what his father was doing.  But you turned a blind eye to his abuse for _years_ , presumably because either you were too afraid of the man or valued his friendship more than his son’s welfare.  Either way, you make me _sick_!”

“Sam, this _ain’t_ helping!” Dean hissed frantically.

The hunter meanwhile had first turned pale at the accusation before flushing angrily.  “I’ll admit I made some big mistakes when Dean was younger, ones that I’ll regret to the end of my days.  But I ain’t the one who’s taking advantage of his weakness _now_!  Or are you gonna try to convince me that an incubus, the very _definition_ of a sexual predator, took him in purely outta the goodness of your heart?  That _you_ ain’t the reason he called me for help, at least before you somehow brainwashed him into thinking that he _wants_ you molesting him?  I wasn’t born yesterday, asshole!”

“That’s obviously one of the major differences between us.  I’ve _never_ thought of Dean as weak—in fact, he’s one of the _strongest_ men I’ve ever known,” I replied.  “And I’ve _never_ forced myself on him either!  If you hunters would actually bother to learn the _truth_ about the people you slaughter senselessly, you’d know that rape of _any_ kind is absolute anathema to incubi and succubi.  Dean and I have had our problems, but _that_ was never one of them.  The truth is that he _wants_ to stay with me now, whereas it seems like he couldn’t _wait_ to leave your care years ago and—”

“Alright, _both_ of you shut the fuck up right now!  This _ain’t_ a goddamn competition, and you two sniping at each other and waving your dicks around ain’t fixing nothing!” Dean interrupted furiously.  “So either quit this stupid bullshit right _now_ , or I’m gonna knock your fool heads together myself!  Bobby, you stay put while me and Sam discuss something.”

He then grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over by the grill.  “If you’re done acting like a hormonal jackass, we gotta figure out what we’re telling him ‘bout what happened.”

I took another deep breath to compose myself before responding quietly.  “We can’t tell him the whole truth.  He’s a _hunter_ , and he’ll tell others of his ilk about the community if we do.  To prevent them from trying to attack us, the community will kill not only him but also the two of us—and they’ll be _right_ to do so.  As it is, we’ll have enough trouble to deal with if the Security Commission finds out he’s even _in_ the city.  We have to give him some story that’ll get him to leave quietly.”

“That ain’t gonna work, Sam.  We _gotta_ tell him everything, ‘cause he ain’t gonna settle for some half-assed bullshit.  Bobby is the smartest and stubbornest guy I’ve ever met, and he _always_ knows when I’m lying to his face,” Dean argued in an equally soft voice.  “And he’s usually a levelheaded, reasonable guy.  I don’t believe he’s one of those hunters who kill everything indiscriminately.  We can convince him that the community in general ain’t a bad thing.”

“That won’t be enough.  Even assuming _I’m_ willing to trust him, the community won’t simply take his word that he won’t tell any others about us when they discover his presence here,” I said.  “And it _will_ be a ‘when,’ not an ‘if,’ they find out about him—particularly if he sticks around too long.”

“So we get him to agree to let Rowena put a—a geas on him that he can’t talk to outsiders ‘bout the community,” he suggested.  “What else are we gonna do?  He ain’t gonna believe any lie we try to feed him, and better he hears the real deal from us then go poking around himself.  Thanks for not suggesting that ganking him is an option, by the way.”

“Of course not!  I might not like him much, but he’s still your family.”  I sighed and continued reluctantly, “I guess I’ll trust your judgement regarding Bobby.  I just hope you’re right about him!”

“Okay, but lemme do the talking.  You two seem to be rubbing each other the wrong fucking way!”

We headed back to the seating area.  Bobby had gotten up and was examining the herb garden, but he resumed his seat when we returned.  I sat back with my arm resting along the top of the loveseat, letting Dean take the lead in the conversation.

Dean leaned forward and looked at the older man earnestly.  “Okay, I’m gonna tell you what _really_ happened to me, Bobby.  I need you to hear me out and not freak out or jump to conclusions ‘bout anything though, okay?

“The truth is, I got kidnapped . . . what, almost three months ago now?  I got hit by a tranquilizer dart and woke up in the back of a box truck with a buncha other people nobody gave a damn ‘bout—homeless, runaways, illegals, and drifters like me.  When the truck stopped hours later outside what looked like a large warehouse, the armed thugs made us watch as two werewolves tore some poor bastard open, so we’d understand _exactly_ the kinda fucked-up situation we were in. 

“We were then stripped, hosed down, and examined before being thrown into holding cages.  Other prisoners there told us this was some kinda damn market for monsters, where they bought people mostly for food and sometimes for sex or labor.  I got put in a separate room after they figured out I was an omega, and the assholes running the place then brought customers to look at what they called the ‘special merchandise.’  A coupla ‘em checked me out but I guess couldn’t afford the high price tag they had on me or some shit.”

Bobby looked shocked.  “A supernatural meat market?  I never knew any of the monsters were _that_ organized!  How did you get outta there?  Or . . . were you _bought_?”

Dean nodded.  “I got bought.  Sam came in looking for someone to feed from on a regular basis, and I agreed to go with him ‘cause it was better than being ripped apart by a were or drained by a vamp.  But I was still afraid that I was back in the same sorta shitty mess as with my dad or worse.  And I was pissed that after all I’d been through, I still found myself under some goddamn alpha’s thumb.  The security measures on me were too tight to lemme get away, so the best I could do was play along and hope someone would drop their guard eventually.  I made the Poughkeepsie call on my first day here ‘cause I didn’t know what else to do.

“But Sam . . . Sam wasn’t at _all_ like what I expected.  From the very beginning, he treated me like a friend, not a slave.  He tried to respect my feelings and did his best to make me happy.  He didn’t touch me ‘cept in a platonic manner for weeks, and after that it was only with my permission and only as far as I was willing to go.  I should’ve been furious, should’ve _hated_ him for buying me, but I . . . I just _couldn’t_.  In fact, there was something in me that insisted on trusting him, on _liking_ him, no matter how much it confused the hell outta me.”  He smiled up at me. 

“After a while, I realized that I didn’t wanna escape anymore.  I _liked_ living with Sam, being his—his lover, even if how we got together was fucked up.  Being with him has made me happier that I can _ever_ remember, Bobby.  We’ve had our problems, but we’ve been working through ‘em together.  And this _ain’t_ some kinda Stockholm syndrome bullshit either, okay?  I _know_ that what happened to me was wrong, that Sam buying another person was shitty, no matter how well he treated me.  But I _ain’t_ a prisoner no more, and I’m still here ‘cause I _wanna_ be with Sam.”  He gazed at his foster father defiantly.

Bobby took a deep breath.  “You’re telling me that you were abducted by a buncha monsters and sold to an incubus to be his sex slave.  Because he keeps you on a loose leash and don’t treat you like dirt, you think you’re in love and everything’s hunky-dory.  And you want me to buy into this fairy tale?  I’m sorry, Dean, but doncha see that this—this _thing_ is messing with your head?  He’s taking advantage of your issues and twisting you around until he got you believing that you _like_ how he’s abusing you!  At least with John you _knew_ that he was hurting you!”

“Do you truly have such a _low_ opinion of your foster son?  You _honestly_ believe he’s weak-willed enough to be manipulated like that, that he can’t tell the difference between what’s abuse and what’s not?” I demanded angrily.  “No wonder then that Dean left you as soon as he could, if you have so little faith in his judgment!  Is it so _hard_ for you to trust that he is strong enough and smart enough to make the correct choices for himself?”

“This _ain’t_ ‘bout me doubting Dean’s intelligence or character, douchebag!” Bobby retorted.  “I know that boy better than _anyone_!  But even the smartest guy in the world can be tricked under the wrong circumstances.  I also know just how badly he’d been hurt before and just how damaged it left him, and I ain’t gonna stand around and watch it happen _again_!”

“Bobby, I get that you’re trying to look out for me, and I appreciate that, I really do.  But you _gotta_ lemme grow up, man!  I ain’t that terrified sixteen-year-old kid you first took in anymore.  This is _my_ life now, and _I’m_ the only one who gets to decide how I live it,” Dean said bluntly.  “Sam is a _good_ man, and the fact that he ain’t human don’t fucking matter.  What _does_ is that he’s treated me better than pretty much anyone else has, _and_ he’s done more to help me get over my damn ‘issues’ than all those years of seeing shrinks and therapists ever did.  He’s a major part of my life now, and you’re gonna hafta figure out a way to accept that.”

“Even _if_ I’m willing to believe that Sam ain’t the bad guy here, there’s _still_ the matter of this human trafficking ring that he participated in,” the hunter pointed out.  “Just how many of these sonsofbitches are involved with this damn thing?  How many poor bastards have been sold through it?”

“It’s actually _way_ bigger than that, dude.  There’s a whole _society_ of supernatural creatures here, and they pretty much fucking _own_ this city.  Every tenant and employee in this high-rise is part of it, and there are similar properties throughout the city, plus they run more businesses besides the Food Market.  There are members working as police officers, EMTs, emergency dispatchers, judges, reporters, and so on.  They’ve got their own government, laws, punishment system, the whole shebang,” Dean explained.

“Before you start flipping out, you gotta realize that most of ‘em are normal, decent people who don’t wanna hurt anyone.  A coupla of our close friends are vampires—one’s a lawyer who works with Sam, the other’s a police detective.  Their nest owns a legit blood bank, and they feed on expired or rejected blood bags.  The sisters who run our favorite café and my music teacher are all werewolves who live offa cow and pig hearts,” he continued.  “That’s just a few of the people that I know personally, and there are tons more who are just living their lives and raising their families without killing no one.”

“The community actually does a lot of good for this city, and not just for its members.  We help keep crime down and business up, making the city safer and more prosperous for _all_ its inhabitants.  And as much as some of us hate to admit it, even the Food Market keeps the death toll down in its way.  Without it, all these creatures would have to hunt and kill separately, but with it multiple people can share in one kill, which reduces the overall body count,” I added.  “Which isn’t to say that many of us don’t recognize that this system is still _wrong_.  There are a number of us working in different ways to bring the Market down and replace it with non-lethal alternatives.”

“You both are serious ‘bout this, ain’t ya?  You ain’t pulling my leg about what’s going on here, that this whole damn _city_ is chock full of monsters running the place!”  Bobby fell back in his chair, looking stunned.  “And you’re trying to convince me to _not_ get on the horn to every hunter I know to come here and take all this down.”

“Yes, we are—and not only because you’d need a small army to have a chance at taking us all on,” I said gravely.  “Like Dean said, most of the people here are ordinary folk who’ve never killed a human, at least not directly, and they don’t deserve to have their lives destroyed.  He believes you’re not one of those mindless brutes who think everything supernatural must be destroyed—like the bastards who needlessly killed my parents.  Are you going to prove him wrong?”

“I—I dunno.  This is a _hell_ of a lot to take in all at once!  This shit ain’t something I can make up my mind ‘bout quickly—either ‘bout you or your community,” Bobby replied.

"Why don’t you stick around for a few days then, Bobby?” Dean offered.  “It’d give you a chance to get to know Sam better and to see what the community is like before deciding what to do.”

I shook my head.  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dean.  The longer he’s here, the more likely his presence will be noted by someone we don’t want to find out, like someone in the Security Commission.  I doubt any of us will like the results if _that_ happens!”

“We just hafta be careful ‘bout where we take him and who we introduce him to.  He mentioned using some spell to get into the building without being noticed, right?  We can see if something like that can be used so that most people don’t really pay attention or remember him.  If Bobby doesn’t know the right spell, I’m sure Crowley or Rowena will,” Dean argued.

I looked at his sincere expression and sighed, then shifted my gaze to the hunter.  “I’m going along with this against my better judgement _only_ because I know he wants to spend more time with you.  But if you stay, you _must_ listen to both of us and not go off anywhere by yourself.  Can you agree to that?”

“Well, I ain’t leaving without figuring out the _real_ story ‘bout what’s going on with you two, let alone the _rest_ of this crap.  So if that’s what I gotta do, then okay.”  Bobby took his cap off to rub at his head and then replaced it.  “I’m gonna hafta go back to my motel to get my stuff first.  Dean, you might wanna come with me, ‘cause I came here in _your_ car.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide.  “You . . . you brought my Baby?”

“I figured you’d be missing your girl after so long, so yeah, I drove her here.”  Bobby smiled at the look on the omega’s face.  “I promise this _ain’t_ some kinda trick to take you away.  You can drive, and we’ll come back here as soon as we grab my gear.”

Dean turned his shining eyes on me.  “That okay with you, Sam?”

I pushed my misgivings down before responding.  “I wouldn’t dream of interfering with this reunion!  And I trust you to be able to handle yourself, including with Bobby.  I’ll be waiting when you get back—we have something else of importance to discuss.”

“Awesome!”  He gave me an exuberant hug and kiss and then stood.  “We’ll be back in a little while then.”

I watched the two leave the apartment and hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So despite Sam's and Dean's best efforts, Bobby managed to track them down anyway (because Bobby is awesome). Now they have to convince him to not take out Sam and the rest of the community with him. One hopes that this Bobby has a reasonable view about the supernatural AND is willing to give Sam the benefit of the doubt despite everything that happened . . .
> 
> And they have to contend not only with whatever Bobby's opinion of the supernatural is, but also Sam's opinion of hunters in general and Bobby in particular, since Sam is seriously underwhelmed by Bobby's lack of effort to protect Dean when he was younger. Which is a problem I kinda have with Bobby on the show, despite how much I love the character. As stated before, I don't think the canon John was as abusive as the one in this story, but we do know he was neglectful, put his sons at unnecessary risk, and messed them up emotionally (especially Dean). Bobby had to have seen some of this, yet he did very little to intervene that we know about. Given how badly this John treated Dean, I think Sam's low opinion of this Bobby is understandable.
> 
> I also figured that the boys would realize that trying to cover up the truth about the community wouldn't work, since there would be too many loose ends in any story they'd try to concoct--such as why Dean can't leave the city. Since Dean knows just how smart Bobby is, he'd also know that Bobby would see those holes in their tale and try to unearth the truth himself, which would be an even bigger disaster than telling him themselves. Though Dean still tried to leave out most of the details of what it was like for him before the fight, since he wants Bobby to have a better opinion of Sam.
> 
> I meant to post this update a little earlier, but I was attacked by a bossy snugglemuffin who demanded his pets RIGHT MEOW and wouldn't take No for an answer. I then discovered a number of mats in his fluff and had to assault him with the evil brush monster. So the update had to literally wait until the fur cleared. :) Next week's update should go up on Monday afternoon or evening as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer.


	27. Chapter 27

After changing out of my suit, I spent the next hour pacing worriedly.  I knew Dean was capable of dealing with a wide variety of circumstances, but Singer appeared to be a very crafty, resourceful individual.  I didn’t entirely trust him not to change his mind and find a way to mislead or coerce his foster son into leaving with him.  Therefore I was quite relieved to hear the front door open and see Dean enter the apartment followed by Bobby, each bearing a full duffel bag.

Before Dean could even set the bag down, I had him in my arms, my face buried in the crook of his neck.  “Thank gods you’re back!  I know you can take care of yourself, but I was still concerned that _he_ might . . . well, you know—”

Dean dropped the bag and put his arms around my shoulders.  “Hey Sammy, it’s okay!  I ain’t going _anywhere_.  Things ain’t so bad that Bobby’s willing to resort to the kinda drastic measures needed to keep me from you.”

Bobby coughed uncomfortably behind us.  “Sorry to interrupt this Hallmark moment, but this bag ain’t getting any lighter.  I assume you got the space to put me up in this ginormous apartment.”

I took in another deep breath of the omega’s enthralling scent and then stepped back.  “We have a guest bedroom you can use.  Dean, did you want to show him there?”

“Yeah, but there’s also something I wanna show you in the master bedroom.  So come with us, okay?”  He smiled up at me.

I nodded and followed as he led the older man into the bedroom wing.  Dean stopped at one of the first doors and opened it.  “Here’s the spare bedroom, man.  That door leads to the bathroom shared between these two rooms and the hall—on the other side of the bathroom is my workshop space.  Chill out here for a little while, and I’ll be back soon to grab you before I start making dinner.”

Bobby peered into the room, which was furnished with a queen bed, pair of nightstands, dresser, armchair, and ottoman.  The omega’s design touches were seen in the bed linens, upholstery, cushions, and rug in shades of blue and green, peacock-themed art prints on the wall and Tiffany lamps on the nightstands, and a blue and gold dichroic glass vase on the dresser.  Floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall gave a panoramic view across the city.

Bobby struggled not to look impressed.  “I suppose this place will do for a few days, as long as the water pressure’s better than at that crappy motel!”

“We’ll leave you to try it out then, man,” Dean replied with a grin, before taking my hand and tugging me along to my room.

Once inside, I immediately noticed the changes.  There were additional books in the small bookshelf in the sitting area, and his iPod and Kindle were resting with their chargers on the nightstand on his side of the bed.  Some of his music and movie memorabilia, such as a vintage Led Zeppelin poster and a couple starship replicas, were on display on the walls and various end tables.  Some of the ornamental pillows, throw rugs, and other decorative items from his room were also scattered about.  Most tellingly, the second walk-in closet had been emptied of its random junk and instead was filled with his clothes, shoes, and jewelry.

“I moved my stuff in here this morning, ‘cause sharing a bedroom is what real boyfriends are supposed to do, right?  I haven’t been using my room much lately, and it ain’t like I really need privacy anymore.  I know we probably shoulda talked ‘bout this first, but I wanted to surprise you.  You don’t mind, do you?”  He stopped and eyed me a trifle nervously.

“ _Mind_?  Dean, this is wonderful!  I’m _thrilled_ that you want to move in here!” I exclaimed before catching his face between my hands and kissing him fervently.

He threaded a hand through my hair and kissed back just as passionately.  After a moment, he pulled back and groaned, “Dammit, I got dosed with your spit!  I can’t go out to the kitchen like this!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” I murmured, then unfastened his jeans and reached inside his boxer-briefs to curl my fingers around his stiffened cock. 

I stroked it rapidly, twisting my hand occasionally as it slid up and down his silky shaft.  He leaned against me and moaned, his hips thrusting into my grip, and came after just a few minutes.  I fed a little as he climaxed, but not enough to make either of us drowsy.  I licked my fingers clean and then went into the bathroom to get a damp washcloth, noting that his toiletries were now in place around one of the sinks and in the shower.

Dean was slumped on the side of the bed when I returned and cleaned him off.  “Thanks, Sammy.  What ‘bout you though?”

“I can wait until later tonight.”  I then noticed that Dean still had the duffel bag with him.  “What’s with the bag?  I thought you were just helping Bobby carry his stuff in.”

“Nah, this one’s mine—Bobby brought it with Baby.  Most of the clothes I’m gonna give to Goodwill ‘cept for a few favorites, since I have plenty of better duds now.”  He rummaged through the bag as he spoke.  “There are some other personal things in here that I wanna keep—a coupla books, some old pictures, shit like that.”

He proceeded to empty out the bag and separate the contents into two piles—one to keep and one to donate or discard.  I sat beside him and looked through the pictures he’d piled up.  Most were of him as a child or teen, some with a younger boy I took to be Sammy, some with Bobby, and a couple with a blond woman whose features were amazingly similar to his.  From his young age in those shots, I guessed that this was his mother.  The few of him as an adult were generally with Bobby or with his car, though a handful were taken at some sightseeing attraction, such as the world’s largest ball of twine. 

“Shit, I almost forgot ‘bout this!”  I looked up at his exclamation and saw that he was holding an engraved, nickel-plated handgun with ivory grips.  “This is the only thing I kept from my dad, besides the Impala of course.  It’s the Colt M1911 that _his_ dad used in World War II and then he used in ‘Nam, so it’s kinda the closest to a Winchester family heirloom we got.  I kept it for protection on the road but never needed to use it.  I . . . I dunno what to do with it now.”

“If you want to keep it, we can get the necessary permits for it.”  I smiled at his startled glance.  “I’m all in favor of you having additional means to protect yourself.  And it’s not like anyone can claim it’s a risk to _me_ , not unless you coat the bullets in vervain or carve them out of consecrated birch.”

Dean shuddered.  “You know I ain’t doing that!  Though that reminds me, we should lock that shit up, ‘specially while Bobby’s here.  Don’t wanna give him any ideas!”

“I’ll show you how to open the safe in my closet so you can store them in there.  We can put your gun inside too until we can get a proper lock box for it,” I told him.

Once he put everything away, including locking the weapons in the safe, he gathered Bobby from the guest room and planted him at the breakfast bar while he prepared dinner.  I decided to give them some private time to talk and went to the library to putter around.  By the time my nose told me that the food was ready, he had the table set with pan-seared NY strip steaks with gorgonzola-cream sauce, garlic-herb roasted portabella mushrooms, potatoes au gratin with bacon and Gruyere cheese, and cherry pie with whipped cream for dessert.  The meal could’ve been awkward, with Bobby and I glowering at each other, but the omega kept the mood light, chattering cheerfully about his car, the restaurant, and the places he planned to take the hunter.

After dinner was cleared away, Dean dragged me down to the garage to meet his Baby, now parked next to my BMW M5.  Even though muscle cars weren’t my style, I had to admit that the Impala was gorgeous, all sleek black lines and gleaming chrome.  Looking at how immaculate and well-maintained everything was, from the engine to the body panels to the upholstery, it was hard to believe that this car was over forty years old. 

“—gonna hafta find a local garage that’ll let me work on her since there isn’t space for that here.  I know Bobby took good care of her, but I still wanna check up on her myself,” he concluded as he closed the hood.  “Whaddya think of her?”

“This is a beautiful car,” I said honestly.  “It’s obvious you’ve put a lot of love and care into its upkeep.  I’m sure we can find a shop specializing in classic cars that’ll be willing to rent you some space whenever you need it.  And hey, now that you have this back, you’re that much closer to the perfect life you mentioned earlier!”

He beamed at the compliments.  “Thanks, Sammy.  So . . . what is it you wanna talk ‘bout?  Is it something you don’t wanna bring up in front of Bobby?”

I looked down at his happy expression and couldn’t bring myself to dampen his joy.  “You know what, we can talk about it tomorrow.  Let’s head back up before Bobby figures out how to booby-trap the apartment!”

Back upstairs, Dean challenged first Bobby and then me to a game of pool.  As I watched and then played, I tried to keep my interactions with the omega as natural as possible, acting no more or less affectionate than usual despite feeling Bobby’s disapproving gaze on me constantly.  Dean beat us both handily, and we then played a second round in which Bobby managed to squeak by with a win and I lost again but by a closer margin.  The older man chose to retire to bed at that point.

“Do you need me to stay home from work tomorrow to help you deal with Bobby?” I asked as I put away the cue sticks.

“Nah, I should be fine.  I gotta go to the restaurant for a coupla interviews, and I’ll take him with me.  I figure talking to Ellen and the others ‘bout what the community is really like will be good for him.  Plus it’ll give ‘em all a chance to make up—he’s been playing chicken-shit for too long,” Dean replied.  “Depending on how that goes, I might also take him downstairs to meet some of the shop owners.  Maybe I’ll sic Sparkle on him for some much-needed manscaping!”

I laughed at that.  “I’d pay good money to watch that!”

He grinned and took my hand as we walked to our bedroom.  I got a warm feeling in my chest seeing him go into his closet to undress and felt positively mushy watching him brush his teeth at the sink beside mine.  He rolled his eyes at the undoubtedly sappy expression on my face, and I just shrugged sheepishly.  I couldn’t help how pleased I was at finally sharing a room together instead of just a bed, particularly since he’d chosen to do this entirely on his own.  This was a _huge_ step closer to truly being lovers.

Once we were in bed together, we began kissing languidly, taking our time to run our hands over the other’s skin.  When I started stroking his cock, I lifted my head from sucking a love mark at the base of his neck in order to appreciate his delicate responses—how his large eyes grew heavy and his long-lashed lids fluttered half-way shut, how his fair skin flushed over his high cheekbones and his white teeth bit at his full lower lip, how his lithe back arched and his narrow hips bucked at my touch.

“Fuck, Sammy!  _Ahh_ , that’s good!” Dean moaned.  “But I wanna do _more_ tonight, man.  Can—can you touch me down _there_?”

I paused and looked at him in surprise, because this was a pretty big move.  Despite how comfortable he’d become with everything else we’d done, I’d been careful not to go anywhere near his omega channel before.  But his eyes, though bright with desire, were steady, and I sensed no uncertainty or fear coming off of him.

I slid a hand down past his testicles and ran my fingers along the sensitive skin of his perineum.  As his bowed legs sprawled open, I rubbed my fingertips around the puckered furl of his entrance, feeling just a hint of moisture seeping out.  I examined his expression for indications of anything besides pleasure before carefully pushing a single finger inside.

His passage was hot and tight around my digit and already quite slick.  The walls were not as smooth as I expected, and I recalled Dr. Talbot’s mention of scarring with a pang, knowing now _how_ it had happened.  He showed no sign of distress and indeed was humming in enjoyment, so I added another finger.  I felt around until I found the raised nub of his prostate, and he gasped in delighted surprise when my fingertips rubbed against it.

I began sliding my fingers in and out of his channel, grazing his sweet spot with every stroke.  With my other hand, I grasped the base of his cock and swallowed him down, sucking and lapping at his length.  He was soon keening and swearing at the doubled stimulation, alternating between thrusting his pelvis forward, driving his member down my throat, and backward, plunging my fingers into his depths.  Within a few minutes of this, he cried out, and I felt his inner walls clench around my fingers and his cum spurt into my mouth. 

I swallowed, sat up, and wrapped my hands around my cock.  Already riding the high of feeding off his climax, it took only a few quick jerks to reach my own orgasm with a loud groan.  I managed to pull a washcloth out of the nightstand drawer and wipe us both clean before collapsing beside him.

“Oh man, that was fucking _awesome_!” Dean panted, a pleased smile on his face.  “We’re definitely doing _that_ again soon!”

“I’m glad you liked that!  And we can do it as often as you want.”  I dropped a kiss on his lips and held him close until he fell asleep.

The following morning, Bobby emerged from his room with a disgruntled expression just as Dean pulled a ham, spinach, and cheese frittata out of the oven.  He plopped down at the breakfast bar and announced, “You idjits should know that your bedroom _ain’t_ as soundproof as you think.  It’s great and all that Dean seems to be getting over his intimacy issues, but I _don’t_ need to know what either of you chuckleheads sounds like when you’re getting off!”

Dean blushed a bright red and stammered out an apology.  I resisted the urge to stick my tongue down his throat and suck out his tonsils in front of the hunter and merely smirked.  Bobby grumbled in response and applied himself to his mug of coffee.

I left for work soon after, grabbing my lunch and giving the omega a heartfelt kiss before heading out the door.  I didn’t talk to anyone at the office, not even Lenore, about Bobby’s unexpected arrival—I wasn’t sure yet if it was wise to get too many others involved in case there was trouble.  Dean texted me a few times throughout the day to let me know that everything was fine.

He still seemed in a good mood when I got home, so I assumed Bobby hadn’t given him much trouble.  Over dinner—sliders with caramelized onions, Gouda cheese, and rosemary aioli, chicken and pulled pork Brunswick stew, cornbread muffins with maple butter, and chocolate chess pie—he filled me in on how the interviews and Bobby’s reunion with the Harvelles had gone.

“—and Jo kept apologizing for accidentally spilling the beans.  I told her that Bobby’s one of the craftiest sonsofbitches on the planet, so it ain’t no shame to get outsmarted by him,” Dean concluded.

I looked over at Bobby with a raised eyebrow.  “So has _your_ opinion of the community changed at all after talking to them?  Since they used to be part of the hunting lifestyle and then chose to come here, I hoped you might be able to relate to their unique perspective.”

“It certainly gave me a lot to think ‘bout,” Bobby admitted.  “Ellen told me stories ‘bout some of her long-time staff, including a vetala, a coupla djinn, a witch, and a vampire, and mentioned she’d recently hired a kitsune and a shifter as well.  Most of ‘em seem to be just ordinary folk, and she offered to have me meet ‘em when the restaurant opens in a coupla weeks.  And of course Ash kept popping in and out.  Never met a ghost before that wasn’t anchored to a place or object or stuck in some kinda loop, but he’s always been _different_.  I can see how dealing with this community of yours ain’t a black or white issue.”

“That’s all we’re asking for right now, man, is to keep an open mind ‘bout this,” Dean said.

“Though I gotta admit, I was more interested in what Ellen had to say ‘bout _you_ , Dean, and how well you’ve been taking on the job of head chef.  You’ve been wandering aimlessly for so long that I worried you wouldn’t find something that made you happy.  But seeing you at the restaurant today—I’m proud of you, boy!” Bobby added with a fond smile.

Dean blushed and ducked his head.  “It ain’t no big deal, dude.  Ellen’s been helping a lot, showing me the ropes and shit.”

“Don’t listen to him—it _is_ a big deal!” I interjected.  “He’s been working his _ass_ off the past two weeks, reading up on restaurant and kitchen management, planning the menu and food budget, working with Ellen on the kitchen layout and staff interviews, and more.  _He’s_ the only one who doesn’t think he’s doing a phenomenal job so far!”

“Shuddup!  I don’t need you two ganging up on me!” Dean mock-growled.  “Now, didn’t you have something important you needed to tell me?  I assumed that’s why you were home early yesterday.”

“I do, but let’s clear this away first,” I replied and began gathering up plates.

Bobby asked, “Is this something I should be here for?”

“That’s Dean’s call.  It has to do with his heat.”  I looked over at the omega.

“I had to stop taking the suppressants.  The doctor I’m seeing here—who’s a _major_ bitch but knows her shit—thought they were too dangerous, considering how long I’ve been on ‘em.  So I’m supposed to get my first heat sometime in the next coupla weeks,” Dean explained to the older man.  “Sam and I have been trying to find other options to deal with it besides . . . you know.  If you wanna stay and hear Sam’s news, go right ahead.”

Once the leftovers were put away and the dishes cleaned, we moved over to the living room to talk.  I began, “I came across articles on some studies done in Europe by . . . let’s see, a Swedish hospital, a Danish university, a German pharmaceutical company, and a French omega rights group.  They were looking into alternative methods to get through an omega’s heat, like hormone therapy, drugs to combat the symptoms, and . . . err, what they euphemistically referred to as ‘alpha substitutes.’  None of these articles were in English however, and I didn’t get the translations until yesterday.”

I paused to hand Dean the translated articles before continuing.  “I’m afraid the news isn’t good.  In all of the studies, the treatments ultimately failed, and the test subjects either died or had to be . . . ‘serviced’ by an alpha to save their lives.  And in many cases, by the time an alpha was brought in, the omegas involved had already suffered irreparable damage to their systems.  Some of the methods were able to postpone the inevitable for a time, but the end results were the same.  The studies all concluded that despite their best efforts, the only safe method to survive a heat still seems to be via repeated intercourse with an alpha.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Dean.  We were both hoping to find a more palatable way to get you through this, but it looks like that doesn’t exist.  This is still _your_ decision though—you tell me what you want to do, and I’ll do my best to help you,” I told the omega, who was still looking through the articles.

“Well, ain’t that _convenient_ for you, Sam!” Bobby burst out.  “Was this your plan all along?  You string him along with promises to find ‘another way,’ and then at the last minute, when he’s got no chance to figure something else out, you _happen_ to find out that he’s gotta let you take advantage of him after all!  And of course now I can’t take him away either, because somehow you’re the _only_ one who can save him.  Looks like you’re managing to get what _you_ want!”

“Fuck you, old man!  You have _no_ right to accuse me of that!  I could’ve easily forced Dean into a sexual relationship at any point from the beginning, but I’ve never even _touched_ him without his express consent.  I did this not only because any form of coercion is completely repugnant to me, but also because I care deeply about _him_.  And _this_ —putting him in a situation where he has no choice—has _never_ been what I want!” I retorted furiously.

Dean put the papers down and glared at the older man.  “Bobby, with all due respect, shut your damn cakehole!  You obviously dunno the first thing ‘bout Sam, ‘cause then you’d realize that was the most _ridiculous_ fucking suggestion ever!  He’s never needed to force me to do _anything_ , get it?  Everything that’s happened between us has been with my _full_ agreement, ‘cause he’s a good man and I love him!  Yeah, you heard that right—I fucking _love_ him!  You don’t hafta like that—or him—but you _will_ goddamn accept it!”

He then turned to me with a soft smile and took my hands.  “This is gonna be okay, Sammy.  Yeah, this ain’t the news either of us wanted to hear, but we’ll get through it.  I _trust_ you, and I know you ain’t gonna hurt me.  Considering how well last night went, we’re already almost there, right?  Let’s just take this one day at a time and see how it goes.”

I studied his face in concern but didn’t see or feel any worry or fear.  “Are you sure?  You know you don’t need to put on a front for me.”

“I know, Sam, and I ain’t,” he assured me.  “I’ve spent nearly half my life afraid of this, but I gotta let go of the past sooner or later, right?  I ain’t facing this alone anymore, which makes a _huge_ difference.  I know you’ll take care of me and make this good for me, like you’ve done with everything else so far.”

He looked back at his foster father.  “Sorry for snapping at you, Bobby, but you got this _all_ wrong.  Sam ain’t _anything_ like John.  Yeah, buying me wasn’t exactly the right thing to do, but I might not be _alive_ now if he hadn’t.  And despite the problems we’ve had, being with him has been the _happiest_ time of my life.  I get that this ain’t the easiest thing to understand, but it’s the God’s honest truth.”

Bobby sighed.  “You’re right that this . . . _thing_ between you ain’t easy for me to accept.  But . . . for your sake, son, I’ll do my best to try.”

Dean then took him to the library.  After seeing Bobby happily ensconced back in the guest bedroom with several lore books from my collection, the omega wordlessly led me back to our bedroom.  Even though it was still rather early, we washed up, undressed, and climbed into bed.

I spent the next several hours taking him apart with my hands and mouth, pleasuring him over and over again.  I started by slowly massaging and kissing him from head to toe, leaving no inch of freckled skin unworshipped.  This was followed by wrapping one set of fingers around his dusky cock and burying the other in his taut channel to bring him to a frenzied climax.  I then swallowed him down until he was hard again and pulled back, teasing him with feather-light caresses and kisses across his body before engulfing his cock in my mouth again, pushing him to the edge of completion repeatedly before finally letting him tip over.  And he willingly put his hands on me, stroking me through several orgasms as well.  We both ended up collapsed flat on our backs, boneless, panting, and completely sated.

“Oh _man_!  If you keep that up, we ain’t gonna need to worry ‘bout my heat, ‘cause this is gonna kill me first!” Dean groaned.

“I’m glad you can joke about your heat, and that it’s not upsetting you so much anymore,” I replied with a smile.  “And I’m even happier that you said that—”

“I love you?  I probably shoulda told you some better way than just blurting out like that, and not while telling someone else off!” he said abashedly.  “But I do mean it—I love you, Sammy.”

I kissed him before responding.  “I don’t care how it came out, Dean.  It’s _more_ than enough that you said it.  And I love you so, so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to disappoint anyone expecting something more exciting to come from Dean going off with Bobby. I felt Bobby wouldn't do something as drastic as kidnapping Dean when he's still unsure what's going on. If he decides later that Dean really is in trouble though, all bets may be off. So the boys need to convince him that Dean is safe and happy before it comes to that!
> 
> Poor Dean worked so hard earlier in the day to move all his stuff into Sam's bedroom to give the alpha a nice surprise, and then Bobby shows up! Not that Sam didn't appreciate the gesture regardless, but Bobby's presence complicates everything. Still, the boys are making progress on the emotional and physical front.
> 
> I altered some of the Winchester family history when it came to Dean's iconic handgun. Very little is known about Henry Winchester's past, but it's possible he was old enough to have served in WWII. We also don't know for certain if Dean got the gun from John in canon, though many assume so since it seems like John had it in the flashback in 1.18 Something Wicked. I thought that this Dean would be less willing to keep anything of his father's (except Baby, of course) after John was locked away, but he'd be more likely to keep the gun if it originally came from his grandfather. 
> 
> Now the boys know that their options are unfortunately very limited when it comes to dealing with Dean's heat. I debated for a while about whether or not to give them another way out, but ultimately I decided not to. Besides the hotness factor of heat sex, this way will force Dean to confront a lot of his issues, and it will push his and Sam's relationship to a new level (depending on how well they handle the situation). On a societal level, this keeps omegas dependent on alphas, which is one of the reasons why they've had difficulty gaining true equality in most places. Dean's not flipping out right now, but we'll have to see if he remains calm when his heat is more imminent . . .
> 
> It looks like my radiation therapy will be starting in 2 weeks and hopefully ending by mid-August, barring any complication. Most people take the radiation with few significant side effects, so hopefully I'll be the same. I'm also thrilled to note that my hair is starting to grow back--it's just peach fuzz right now, but it's more than I've had in over 5 months! :) Next week's update should go up around this same time. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer.


	28. Chapter 28

Dean went out the next morning to do some shopping, after extracting a promise from me not to fight with Bobby while he was gone.  I decided to retreat to the library until he got back, but to my dismay I found the hunter already there, seated in an armchair with a book on incubi and succubi—the same book Dean had read on his second day here—on his lap.

Bobby scowled when he saw me.  “You morons weren’t any quieter last night, ya know.  There ain’t enough bleach in the world to scour away the images of what you two might’ve been up to!”

“Not my problem, old man.  No one invited you to come here, and it certainly wasn’t _my_ idea to let you stay!” I snapped as I sat at my desk.  I then paused and took a deep breath.  “My apologies.  You’re important to Dean, and for his sake I should make a better effort to get along with you.”

“I told Dean I’d try harder too,” he admitted somewhat ashamedly.  “Where is he anyways?”

“He’s gone out to some home goods stores.  He wants to redecorate now that we’re sharing a room,” I replied.

“You ain’t going with him?”

I shrugged.  “The whole _Queer Eye_ thing isn’t exactly my forte.  I hired an interior decorator when I first moved in here and didn’t change much for years.  Dean’s the one who really transformed this place into a home—he repainted, rearranged furniture, added rugs, pictures, and all sorts of other domestic touches.  He’s done the same outside—all the gardening and most of the décor out on the terrace is his work.  So whatever he wants to do with the bedrooms now is fine with me.”

“I take it that the same bedroom thing is a new development?”

“Kind of.  I gave Dean his own room from the start, so that he’d have his own space where he’d have a sense of privacy and control,” I explained.  “We actually ended up sharing a bed after only a few days though, because we discovered that he didn’t have those terrible nightmares—which you must be all too familiar with—when I spent the night with him.  So even before we started getting . . . intimate, he’d sleep in my bed, but he still went to his room to wash, change, or when he wanted alone time.  It was only on the day you showed up that Dean decided to move into my bedroom for real.”

Bobby sighed.  “I hate to admit it, but so far it seems you’ve been good for Dean.  He’s fit and not half-starved-looking, he’s barely been drinking at all, and overall it looks like he’s taking care of himself properly for a change.  I ain’t seen him smile or laugh so frequently as these past coupla days in a _long_ time, especially when he’s around you.  And given the hell John put him through, I didn’t have high hopes that the kid would _ever_ let someone get close to him before this.  I don’t ever wanna know _details_ , but the fact that he’s so comfortable being physical with you makes me hopeful that he’s finally beginning to heal.”

He fixed me with a stern look.  “This _don’t_ mean that I’m ready to trust you with him yet!  _Or_ that you’re off the hook for buying him to be your sex slave either!  Being bought by you mighta been better compared to someone that woulda _really_ hurt or killed him, but that still don’t make it _right_.  I also know that there’s _plenty_ ‘bout your ‘relationship’ that neither of you’ve told me yet.  Like how I figure things between you weren’t always so open and easy, or that he wasn’t always able to do as he pleases.  Dean didn’t show signs of mind control when I tested him, but I still ain’t convinced that there ain’t some Stockholm-like asshattery going on.  And don’t think I haven’t noticed that _thing_ around his neck looks an awful lot like a gussied-up collar!”

I nodded.  “You’re absolutely correct, Bobby.  Buying another person and holding him captive is _never_ right, and how well I’ve tried to treat Dean doesn’t change that.  And I _did_ keep him under a lot of restrictions for the longest time.  We’re in a good place together now, but it wasn’t easy getting here, and I’m _still_ amazed that he’s been able to forgive me for the mistakes I made.  But if you want him to be happy, you’re going to have to learn to accept what happened, even if you can’t pardon me for it.

“Just like I’ll have to accept that the person Dean respects the most in his life stood by and did _nothing_ while he was physically, emotionally, and sexually abused for _years_.  There is _no way_ that you didn’t know _something_ about what that bastard did to him, and I’m not sure if I can ever _truly_ forgive or respect you for not stopping it.  You might’ve done your best for Dean _after_ the sonofabitch was locked up, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he wouldn’t have suffered so much if you’d manned up and protected him earlier.”  I folded my arms and gazed back at him implacably.

Bobby swallowed.  “You ain’t wrong, Sam.  I failed Dean badly, and I dunno if I’ll ever be able to forgive _myself_ for not standing up for him.  I _swear_ I didn’t know ‘bout the sexual abuse until after, but . . . I _did_ have my suspicions ‘bout the rest.  Thing is . . . John and I met in ‘Nam, under some of the worst conditions imaginable.  Back then, John had his demons, but he wasn’t a bad man, and he saved my ass more than once out there.  The war changed him for the worse though, and then losing Mary like that pushed him over the edge. 

“Not that _any_ of that shit excuses how he treated Dean but . . . I owed John my _life_ , and I guess I didn’t wanna believe he’d changed so much.  So I tried to rationalize the signs I saw—the bruises, the broken bones, how thin Dean always was, how withdrawn he got after Sammy was gone, and so on.  I told myself it was just boys roughhousing and being clumsy, or growing too fast to keep up with what he was eating, or missing his brother, or regular teenaged moodiness.  I told myself that John was grieving, that his drinking and anger was excusable given what he’d gone through, that he loved his son and wouldn’t hurt him.  I told myself that if there _really_ was a problem, Dean would come to me.  Deep down I knew I was lying to myself, but I didn’t wanna admit it.

“When I got the call that Dean was in a coma after the attack . . . _nothing_ you’ve said was worse than how I’ve blamed myself.  If I hadn’t _deluded_ myself, if I hadn’t made _excuses_ for John, if I’d found the _courage_ to take those boys away, that tragedy wouldn’t have happened.  I of _all_ people should’ve known better, since my own dad was an abusive drunk.  Dean deserved better than a cowardly fool like me, but I was pretty much all he had.  I resolved to do my best for him from then onwards, but I knew it’d never make up for what I should’ve done.

“That boy has _every_ right to hate me for how I let him down, and it’s a testament to his big heart that he found it in him to keep loving me.  But I know that’s part of why he left too.  As much as he tells me I’m the dad he wishes he had all along, he’s never understood why I didn’t save him.  And I got no explanation to give him that could _begin_ to justify my failure as a father or as a man.”  He stopped to wipe at his eyes.

I went to the small liquor cabinet, poured a finger of single-malt scotch each into two glasses, and handed one to him.  “I can’t offer you the absolution you need.  I can’t _imagine_ letting someone I care about be mistreated so badly.  The most I can do for you is help Dean recover from this trauma as best I can, and then someday maybe _he_ can forgive you for your shortcomings. 

“But I’ve made my own mistakes and hurt him pretty badly as well, and I’m still atoning for what I’ve done wrong.  So . . . perhaps we can find a way to make some peace with each other over our individual need to make amends _and_ our mutual affection for him,” I added.

Bobby raised his glass.  “I can drink to that.  And to Dean, who deserves better that what life’s handed him so far, yet has managed to overcome it despite our blunders.”

I raised my glass as well and then took a sip, savoring the fruity aroma, the rich, woody taste with notes of vanilla, apricot, caramel, and honey, and the hint of burn as it slid down my throat.  We were both silent as we slowly finished our drinks.

He set his glass down and closed the book in his lap.  “I hafta say, the books you got here are _fascinating_.  I’ve got the best lore library outta the hunters I know, but it don’t hold a candle to this collection!  Most of what we hunters have to work from is based on myth and legend, and a big part of our research is trying to sift the facts from the fairy tales.  But reading _these_ resources ‘bout the supernatural, written _by_ the supernatural, opens up a whole new _world_ of information!  Like this here—I never knew that the thing ‘bout consensual sex is like a religious tenet with your kind.  It makes me more inclined to think that maybe you _are_ serious ‘bout never forcing Dean into anything physical.”

“It’s our most important precept—that love in all forms _must_ be freely given.  I was already pushing the boundaries of what’s acceptable by purchasing Dean with the intent to feed on him.  Coercing him into a sexual relationship would’ve gone against not only my beliefs but also my personal principles,” I said firmly.  “As I told Dean many times, I never wanted him to feel compelled or obligated to do _anything_.  Even if he’d never agreed to become my lover, I was happy to have him here as a companion and friend.”

“For Dean’s sake, I’d _like_ to believe that’s true, and maybe I will after I get to know you better,” he responded.  “But reading this stuff, talking to you two and the others ‘bout your community . . . it makes me realize just how much I _don’t_ know.  I ain’t one of those hunters who shoots first and asks questions later or thinks that everything supernatural is evil, but now I wonder how many creatures I _still_ mighta misjudged.  If we hunters had access to this kinda knowledge, not only could we do our jobs better, but maybe we could avoid going after those that don’t deserve it.”

“Do you really think most hunters would even _care_?” I asked bitterly.  “From our experience, the majority of _your_ kind are revenge-driven, bloodthirsty fanatics who think that anyone who isn’t human should die.  Letting them have this information would simply enable them to slaughter us more easily.”

Bobby looked at me shrewdly.  “You _really_ don’t have a good opinion of hunters, do you?  I noticed how you reacted to me initially, and whenever I mentioned other hunters.  It seems more than just a general fear of being persecuted—your anger seems _personal_.”

“Oh, it’s _very_ personal.  Both of my parents were murdered by hunters,” I retorted.  “I didn’t know my father well, and I never learned the exact circumstances that drew a hunter’s attention to him.  So it’s _possible_ he did something to bring about his demise.  But my mother was _innocent_ of any wrongdoing!  She ran a pleasure house near Las Vegas as a sanctuary, a safe place where people like us could live and feed without drawing attention.  In all the decades that she was madam there, not a _single_ client was ever harmed by one of her courtesans.  Eventually however, a pack of hunters discovered the brothel, and they didn’t _care_ that no humans were being endangered.  They slaughtered most of the people inside, including my mother, and then torched the building to try to cover up their crime.”

“Damn, son!  I’m sorry ‘bout what happened to your momma.  There’s _no_ excuse for what those bastards did to her and her people.”  He appeared to be sincerely upset.  “I get now why you hate hunters, Sam.  But we _ain’t_ all like that—any more than all monsters are bad either.”

I shrugged.  “Maybe, but from our perspective, reasonable hunters like you are the exception, not the rule.  The ones most of us are unlucky enough to encounter are more like what I imagine John Winchester would be if he knew about the supernatural.”

“Why d’ya think I never told that sonofabitch the truth?  The man was _already_ unstable enough with his damn serial killer theory.  Telling him that demons, ghosts, and everything else that goes bump in the night are real, and that one of ‘em was responsible for his wife’s death, woulda sent him _completely_ off the deep end.”  Bobby shook his head.  “I wasn’t gonna be responsible for the rampage he woulda gone on after that!”

“Hopefully I’ll never have the misfortune of ever meeting the bastard.  He deserves more than merely being locked up, but I’ll settle for Dean never having to deal with him again.”  I eyed the other man curiously.  “From _your_ reactions though, it seems like you might be reconsidering the need to attack our community.”

“Yeah, I reckon that ain’t on the tables no more.  And not just ‘cause I dunno if there’s enough hunters in the whole _country_ to take on a group this big—we ain’t exactly the organized types.  If what you all been telling me is true, bringing a bloodbath down on this place ain’t the right thing to do.  That Food Market shithole _needs_ to go down, but the regular folks just trying to live peaceful lives don’t deserve to suffer for it,” he said.  “Jo told me ‘bout the various ways some of you have been trying to fight this Market system, and she mentioned that _you_ specifically have been working against it, despite the lapse with Dean.”

“I’ve done what I can, which has mostly been helping set up non-exploitive food sources.  We find people appropriate positions at butcher’s shops, funeral homes, morgues, blood banks, et cetera, and then we connect restaurants, grocery stores, and similar businesses with them to supply the . . . err, _parts_ the businesses need.  It was slow going at first, but the plan’s gained traction as more people realize that this is more ethical _and_ less expensive than the Food Market,” I explained.  “It’s safer as well—if we ever _are_ discovered by hunters or the public, it’ll be easier to convince them we’re not a threat if we’re not killing humans for food.”

“If you’re so against this bullshit though, why d’ya _buy_ someone through it?  And why is that damn collar _still_ ‘round Dean’s neck?” he demanded.

“Going to the Market was a serious moment of weakness.  I was _tired_ of the time and effort needed on a regular basis to find people to feed from safely.  And I was _lonely_ and wanted more than meaningless hookups just to meet my basic needs,” I admitted.  “I’m still ashamed that I patronized that place, even though finding Dean has turned out to be the _best_ thing that’s ever happened to me.

“As for the collar, I’d take it off in an _instant_ if I could, but unfortunately it’s not up to me.  It was locked around his neck at the Market, and only members of the Council, the community’s ultimate governing body, can remove it,” I continued.  “Until then, Dean can’t leave this city without their authorization.  The normal procedures to free someone are _slow_ —it took a friend of ours three years, and she didn’t have the complication of . . . well, _you_.  Once we’ve gotten past Dean’s heat though, I’m going to do my best to find a way to shortcut the process or circumvent it altogether.”

“ _Balls_!  Ain’t _this_ a convoluted goddamn mess!” he swore.  “What woulda happened if I _had_ tried to take the boy outta here with that damn thing still on?”

“As you approached the city limits, the collar would’ve started emitting increasingly stronger electric shocks.  They’d have become excruciatingly painful as Dean reached the border, to the point of potentially being lethal if they went on too long.  The only way to end the discharges before his heart stopped would’ve been to bring him back inside the city.  Despite all our efforts, we’ve yet to find a method to remove or tamper with the collar without catastrophic consequences to the wearer,” I replied grimly.  “Trust me, if we hadn’t been able to talk you down when you first arrived, I would’ve told you this sooner.”

“It’s a good thing then that you _did_ calm me down enough, and that I realized that taking Dean away forcibly wasn’t what’s best for him!” Bobby exclaimed.  “If there’s anything I _can_ do to get him free of that, you let me know though.”

“I will.”  Not wanting to test the limits of the fragile accord between us too far, I grabbed a couple of books and went to the living room to pass the time.

Dean returned a little over an hour later, pulling a laden luggage cart in with him.  He eyed me suspiciously and declared, “You better not have killed the old man and stuffed him down the garbage chute, dude!”

I got up and gave him a kiss.  “No, he’s in the library.  We _did_ talk for a while, and I think we might’ve reached a détente.  Is there more in the car?”

“Nah, this is everything.  Help me unload the cart, and then I’ll make lunch,” he said.

We unloaded the contents of the cart at the mouth of the hallway to the bedroom wing, and then he left to take the cart back down to the lobby.  I started to look over his purchases out of curiosity.  There were some display cases, which I assumed were for the figurines and replicas remaining in his old room.  There were more rugs, cushions, lamps, and other decorative items that I wasn’t sure which room they were for, as well as a padded bench, footstool, and a couple of small round tables.

Bobby came out of the other wing and glanced around.  “I thought I heard Dean out here?”

“He just went downstairs to return the cart he used to truck all this up,” I replied, waving my hand at the pile in front of me.  “I suspect we’ll be spending most of the afternoon helping Dean put these together and moving things around.”

My surmise proved correct.  After the omega came back, he put together cheesesteaks with sharp provolone and parmesan cheese and sautéed sweet onions, bell peppers, and baby portabella mushrooms, beer-battered onion rings with buttermilk ranch dressing, and buffalo chicken pasta salad.  Then we were put to work assembling and setting up his purchases.  The display cases went into his workshop, the other furniture went into our bedroom, and the rest was split between the master and what was once again the second guest room.

Once everything was arranged to Dean’s satisfaction, we decided to relax and order in Chinese take-out.  While waiting for the food to arrive, the three of us argued good-naturedly about what movies to pick.  Dean got outvoted, so we actually watched something with more drama than explosions with our dim sum, spring rolls, hot and sour and wonton soups, kung pao chicken, General Tso’s shrimp, beef chow mein, and house special fried rice.  Bobby called it a night after the second movie, and we decided to retire as well. 

As we were undressing, Dean commented, “It was nice to see you and Bobby getting along, man.  To be honest, I was kinda surprised—I expected the two of you to be growling at each other for a while longer.”

“Oh, things are hardly perfect!  Neither of us really trusts or approves of the other yet, and that’s going to take time to resolve,” I said.  “But we do agree on how much we care about _you_ , and that for your sake we need to make an effort to stop fighting and learn to coexist.”

“Well, I’m glad that you two are trying, Sam.”  He smiled and kissed me before going into the bathroom.

“Also, I think he understands that attacking the community isn’t a good idea,” I added as I followed him in.  “He of course isn’t happy about the Food Market, but he seems to be willing to let us try our methods to bring it down.  I didn’t mention the idea of the geas to him though—it’ll be better if it comes from you.”

He sighed before picking up his toothbrush.  “Yeah, you’re probably right.  I’ll try to talk to him ‘bout it sometime tomorrow.”

As we got into bed together a little later, I mentioned, “In the interest of keeping the peace, we should try to be quieter tonight.  Bobby complained that we were still too loud last night.”

“Shit!  Ain’t _that_ awkward!”  He blushed a little.  “Umm . . . well, I got something I wanna try out that should keep _one_ of our mouths busy!”

With that, Dean gave me a deep, probing kiss, ensuring a full dose of my saliva.  As the effects started to kick in, he licked, nibbled, and kissed his way down my body, beginning with my jaw and moving down the center of my throat, chest, and abdomen to my groin, with brief detours to toy with my nipples and navel.  When he got to my erect cock, he stroked it momentarily and moistened his curved lips with the tip of his tongue.  He started to lean forward and then hesitated, his uncertainty and nervousness clear.

I propped myself up on one elbow.  “Dean, you don’t need to do that if you’re not feeling up to it.  I’m fine with what we’ve been doing.  This should _always_ be about enjoying yourself, and I don’t want you to push yourself past where you’re comfortable.”

He looked up at me.  “No, I _do_ wanna do this!  It’s just . . . I need a minute to get past the memories, that’s all.”

“Then I think I know a way to make this better for you.  Swing your legs up towards me,” I told him with an encouraging smile.

He immediately caught on to my intent and grinned as he complied.  “Huh, didn’t think of that!  Good idea, man!”

I slung an arm across his hips and licked up the soft skin of his shaft before suckling on the head of his cock.  He sighed in pleasure and lapped at the pre-ejaculate fluid leaking from my slit, then swallowed down as much of my member as he could.  I groaned quietly at the sensation of his warm mouth enveloping me and took him down to the base in my own mouth.  It was a challenge to keep my hips still as he sucked on my length and scratched his nails gently on my scrotum and inner thighs.  I in turn swirled my tongue along his shaft and massaged his balls with my fingers.

We continued to pleasure each other in this manner for several minutes.  When I felt him approaching his climax, I slid two fingers into his slick entrance and pressed them against his prostate.  He came suddenly with a muffled shout, his semen spurting down my throat.  I attempted to pull back as my own orgasm peaked, but he followed and insisted on swallowing my seed as well.

His expression was surprised as he lifted his head.  “Damn!  I used to hate it when those asswipes would make me swallow after they were done, but your cum doesn’t taste bitter and nasty like theirs did!”

“We _are_ designed to make sex as enjoyable as possible, and that includes being on the receiving end of oral,” I replied with a smirk, before reaching down and tugging until he’d shifted positions to bring his head up onto my shoulder.  “How did you like that?”

He grinned happily.  “That was awesome, Sammy!  Definitely something to replace those crappy memories from before!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to see some of Bobby's side of things here. I had to change a bit of his and John's history, since they didn't meet through hunting in this AU. I also needed a reason strong enough to explain why Bobby put up with this John's behavior, and making them old war buddies, and Bobby feeling indebted because John saved his life, fit the bill. I imagine that Bobby's "excuses" are similar to those of other people who let known or suspected abuse slip by (like Max Miller's step-mother in 1.14 Nightmare). Bobby at least realized after the fact how badly he screwed up and has tried to make it up to Dean since. He and Sam seem to have reached an understanding, though it will still take time and effort to build trust and friendship.
> 
> My radiation therapy will be starting on the 24th, and I'll have to see how well my body handles that. Next Sunday I'll be going out-of-town for a funeral and coming back Monday night, so next week's update will go up either Sunday morning or Saturday night, depending on when we decide to leave home. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	29. Chapter 29

Dean went out again the next morning, this time to the supermarket, and was back with laden bags in an hour.  As I helped him put the groceries away, he said, “I was thinking of taking Bobby down to some of the shops later.  If you two ain’t fighting, you wanna come with?” he asked.  “Oh, and I ran into Crowley down in the lobby.  He’s gotta leave for a coupla days, so he asked if we could watch Juliet here.  I figured you wouldn’t mind, though Bobby’s gonna have a shit-fit.”

I snickered.  “Oh, this’ll be priceless!  Assuming Juliet doesn’t give him a coronary, then sure, I’ll join you.”

“Alright, then I’ll head next door to collect the pooch and her stuff.”  He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Where’s Bobby, by the way?”

“I think he’s in the library again.  I’ll let him know about our upcoming adventures in dog-sitting,” I replied.

He left, and I headed down the hall to the library, where Bobby was once more buried in lore books.  “Wake up, old man!  Dean’s back from grocery shopping.  He’s next door right now, bringing our neighbor’s dog over.  It looks like we’ll be watching her for a few days.”

His face brightened as he got up and followed me out to the living room.  “That should be nice!  Though I’ll have to clean up real well before I leave, or else Rumsfeld’s gonna sulk at me for smelling like another mutt.”

I smirked.  “Your Rottweiler’s hurt feelings will be the least of your problems, I think!”

He looked at me askance, but before he could say anything, we heard enthusiastic barking at the door.  Dean entered with Juliet on a leash, and Bobby’s eyes bugged out.  She was visible and in her natural form, not wearing the Great Dane illusion she used outside the building.  Her immense size, multiple glowing red eyes, gaping maw full of razor-sharp teeth, heavy claws, almost chitinous hide, row of needle-like spines running down her back, spike-tipped tail, and slightly sulfurous odor left no doubt as to what she was.

The older man’s face was white as a sheet.  “Dean, get away from that _thing_!  Doncha know what that _is_?”

“Juliet, _stay_!  Bobby here is a _friend_ , so don’t eat him!”  Dean waited until she whuffled and wagged her tail in response before replying.  “This is Juliet, our neighbor Crowley’s dog.  Yeah, she’s a hellhound, and she’s also a _very good girl_.  Aren’t you?  Who’s a good girl?  You are!”

Bobby gaped in shock as Dean rubbed her head lovingly.  I chuckled and nudged him toward her.  “Don’t worry—she’s quite friendly to people she likes.”

“Your neighbor has a damn _hellhound_ for a _pet_?” he asked in disbelief.

“He _is_ a demon,” I pointed out.  “And before you have a fit about _that_ , Crowley’s not a bad guy.  Like Juliet, he’s a good friend to those he likes.  His help has been invaluable in dealing with some of the problems Dean and I have run into.”

Bobby gave both of us the stinkeye before cautiously extending a hand in front of Juliet’s snout.  She sniffed it curiously, then gave it a big lick.  She pushed her head under his fingers and bumped them until he started petting her.

“Well, I’ll be damned!  Never thought I’d be petting a hellhound!” he said in surprise, while scratching behind her ears.

Dean smiled at the two of them.  “She’s kinda a sweetheart, ain't she?  Lemme put her things away, and then we can head out.  I wanna take you to the shops downstairs I told you ‘bout, if you're game.”

“Yeah, I'd like to meet more members of your community besides Sam,” Bobby replied.  “Will she be okay here by herself?”

“Oh yeah, she’d be fine.  But I thought we'd bring her with us.  Most of the shops around here are used to her coming with Crowley or me.  A few let her come in, and she'll wait outside the others and behave herself pretty well,” Dean explained.  “I’m gonna take her to the park after we're done, and you two can come with us or head back.”

“We're going to need a way to prevent you from being recognized though,” I pointed out to the hunter.  “Otherwise, if the Security Commission identifies you from video footage or witness statements, we're _all_ in for a world of hurt.”

“I can take of that with a variation on the spell I used to get in here.  That was a Notice-Me-Not that basically forced the eye to skip over me, and it did the same with cameras.  I can tweak it so that strangers won't be able to remember anything identifying ‘bout me, and my image will show up all blurry on film,” Bobby assured me.

Dean set out the dog's food and water bowls and toys and filled the water bowl.  After Juliet tanked up, we headed downstairs to the mini-mall.  Despite my concerns, his concealment spell got Bobby past the security in the lobby without issue.  He did a better job than Dean had at masking his surprise when first seeing the other shoppers in their natural visages, but I could tell he was on edge.

To ease his discomfort, we went to the bookstore first.  It spanned two stories and was almost as large as a typical Barnes and Noble, with fiction, children’s, and young adult books downstairs and nonfiction upstairs.  I took Bobby up to where the better lore books—the ones written by the community, as opposed to glorified mythology books—were located, while Dean peeled off on his own, accompanied by the hellhound.

We’d been browsing quietly for a while when Bobby suddenly spoke up.  “So . . . you wanna tell me what’s got you so worried?  I’ve noticed how tense you get whenever Dean’s out on his own.  I mighta written that off as standard alpha overprotective BS, but I’ve also seen the hefty security system _and_ protective wards you got on your apartment.  Since this _ain’t_ ‘bout keeping him locked up no more, what’re you still worked up over?”

“It _is_ mostly the typical alpha crap, but . . .  We had a run-in with the head of the Security Commission, a particularly nasty demon named Alastair, several weeks ago.  The Food Market is supposed to run background checks on prisoners to make sure there’s no one who’d go above and beyond looking for them.  The Market assholes got greedy and skimped on Dean’s, so they didn’t uncover that you’re a hunter,” I said.  “The Commission runs its own checks however, and Alastair came to see me when they found out about you.  He tried to get me to turn Dean over to him, and when that didn’t work tried to snatch him from our apartment.

“We were able to foil his attempt with Crowley’s help, and Alastair’s currently busy dealing with other problems, including complaints I filed against him _and_ against the Market.  I’m still concerned that he’ll try again eventually though, especially since I suspect he has personal designs on Dean as well,” I added.

“Doesn’t your community have rules against that kinda shit, since you put in a formal protest and all?” Bobby asked.

“We do.  But Alastair’s used to everyone being too afraid of him to object, so I can’t rely on that stopping him,” I replied.  “We’ve done our best to make things as safe as possible for Dean, but I can’t help but worry if it’s enough.”

“I get how you feel.  But Dean’s been through a lot in his short life, and he’s had to learn the hard way how to survive.  And I’ve had to learn that as much as I wanna protect him, I gotta let him do his own thing,” he said sympathetically.  “Though before I go home, I _can_ help by teaching him some things to use against demons.”

I smiled.  “Thanks, man.  Anything you can offer will be appreciated.”

We continued shopping before eventually making our way downstairs.  Dean was waiting in a sitting area near the cash registers with Juliet and a small pile of books of his own.  He’d also acquired a group of women of differing ages and species who were cooing over either the dog or him.  He didn’t seem upset and indeed was flirting back good-naturedly, so I merely rolled my eyes at his antics—and Juliet’s, who was shamelessly begging for attention.

He glanced up with a smile as we approached.  “Hey Sam!  I was starting to wonder if I’d hafta send a rescue party to pull you two away from the damn books!”

I leaned down to kiss him—to the disappointment of most of his admirers—before responding.  “Looks like you found an enjoyable way to pass the time!”

His smile curled into a smirk.  “Some things are universal, dude, and one is that dogs are fucking chick-magnets!  Who am I to waste such an awesome opportunity?”

Bobby, who’d looked a bit apprehensive, relaxed when he realized I wasn’t upset with the omega and added, “Then let’s pay for our shit and get out before Dean’s fan club decides to carry him off!”

Our next stop was the café, where Kate immediately came out from behind the counter to pet Juliet eagerly.  After giving the hellhound sufficient tribute, the werewolf returned to her spot at the register to take our orders.  Instead of a slice of pie, Dean got some kind of hybrid croissant-doughnut abomination and his usual plain coffee with two sugars.  I ordered a caramel caffè macchiato and a couple oatmeal raisin cookies, and Bobby requested a latte and a blueberry muffin.  And Juliet got a bowl of hot roast beef au jus on the house.

While we waited for our orders, Bobby examined the display cases and asked, “Do any of your sandwiches or savory pastries include . . . umm, _human_ meat?”

Kate shook her head.  “Most of our menu only contains animal products—chicken, beef, pork, et cetera.  We _do_ offer specialty versions of some items on request which contain human-based material, but we get our supply from a local funeral home.  Sam actually helped us set up that partnership.”

“So you’re not in favor of killing humans for food?” he continued.

“Definitely not, or _any_ other sentient being!  That’s just wrong, and it’s not like it’s hard to find alternative that don’t involve hurting people,” she retorted vehemently.  “There’s no reason with the resources we now have for most creatures to _ever_ need to kill someone.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” Bobby said.  “I’m kinda new here, and things like the Food Market don’t sit right with me.  Sam and Dean have been telling me though ‘bout the different ways people have been working to replace places like that.”

“The Market is a holdover from less civilized times, and unfortunately many people still frequent it out of habit or because they think it’s easier or something.  But more businesses and customers are realizing that the Market’s not only inhumane, it’s also less efficient and far riskier than our non-exploitive options,” Kate explained.  “We hope someday soon to be able to shut down places like that for good.”

“Well, I hope more people here are like you, miss.”  Bobby gave her a polite nod and took a seat near us.

After finishing our coffee and snacks, we took him around to a few other shops, where he had similar conversations with some of the people there.  We then took Juliet out to the park and took turns throwing balls and Frisbees for her.  When she finally started to run out of steam, we returned to the apartment.

“I should get going soon, ‘cause there’s only so long that I can leave the salvage yard unattended,” Bobby mentioned as we watched Dean prepare dinner.  “Since it’s a pretty long drive back to Sioux Falls, I thought I’d leave sometime after dinner so I can get a few hours on the road tonight.”

Dean looked up from pounding chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer.  “You ain’t taking Baby with you, right?”

“Nah, I know better than to separate you two.  I figured I’d get a cheap rental car under an alias,” Bobby replied.  “I want one of you to call me when Dean’s heat is ‘bout to start though, so I can come back to help.  You’re gonna need someone to make sure you both get enough to eat and drink _and_ to keep unwelcome visitors out.  I know you got plenty of friends to turn to here, but that ain’t the same as having _family_ to rely on.”

“I appreciate the offer, Bobby, but you won’t be able to drive here in time,” I pointed out.  “We’ll have less than a day’s notice about when his heat will begin, and once it does neither of us will be able to come to the door to let you in—since I plan to beef up the locks and security system so _no one_ can break in again.”

“Then I won’t drive—if I take a plane, I can get here in a few hours, then get a rental or taxi from the airport to your building.  The only reason I drove here in the first place was that Dean ain’t comfortable flying,” Bobby said.  “I got contacts that can make the flight arrangements for me even with such short notice.”

“It’ll be awesome if you can make it, man.  Though you’re gonna need a good set of earplugs, ‘cause we _ain’t_ gonna be fucking quiet!”  The omega’s cheeks were pink as he spoke. 

He continued.  “On a more serious note, there’s something that needs to be done before you go.  I doubt you had that concealment spell up the whole time you were here, so there’s still a chance that the damn Security Commission could figure out you were here from a camera image or something.  If that happens, they ain’t just gonna take our word that you ain’t bringing a pack of fucking hunters down on the community.”

“I assume their response ain’t gonna be pleasant if they don’t believe you.  So whaddya think we can do to make them see I ain’t a threat?” Bobby asked.

Dean took a deep breath.  “We were thinking . . . if you’d agree to have a geas put on you, one that would prevent you from spilling the beans to outsiders or something, that might be enough to keep everyone else from freaking the fuck out.  Crowley’s mom Rowena is a powerful witch, and she should agree to cast it without causing any additional problems.”

Bobby looked concerned.  “What will happen if I _don’t_ agree to this?”

“To prevent the community’s existence from becoming known, they’ll kill you and anyone they suspect you might’ve talked to.  And they’ll kill Dean and I for allowing this threat to happen,” I told him bluntly.  “Your death will most likely be quick since they won’t want to draw attention to it.  Ours won’t be.”

“Balls!  Well, _that_ certainly don’t leave me with a lot of options!  I don’t like the idea of that kinda spell being cast on me, but I can’t think of another possibility that would solve this problem better,” he responded.

“Alright, then I’ll call Rowena and see if she can come here this evening.”  I grabbed my phone and went out onto the terrace.

Rowena agreed to come over in two hours, though I didn’t give her details over the phone.  Dinner was chicken cordon bleu with prosciutto and Gruyère cheese, grilled balsamic asparagus, grilled potato and onion salad with blue cheese and bacon, and blackberry chiffon pie.  After cleaning everything up, Dean and I sat in front of the TV to await her arrival, Juliet lying at our feet gnawing on a large bone, while Bobby retreated to his room to pack up his things.

The doorbell rang promptly two hours after my phone call.  I rose to go open the door.  Rowena as always was dressed flatteringly in a long, snug royal blue dress with beading on the bodice.  As she swept in, she handed me the designer leather tote she was carrying.

“It’s good to see ye again, Samuel!  Though I am _quite_ curious after your rather hush-hush call,” she announced cheerfully.  “Dean!  How are ye, my dear sweet lad?  I hope you haven’t needed to use what ye purchased from me yet!”

Dean took her hand and led her into the living room with a smile.  “Sam and I are both doing fine.  And no, I haven’t run into any assholes that Juliet here hasn’t been able to scare off!  Do you want something to eat or drink?  We’ve got some blackberry pie left from dinner and a couple bottles of wine, or I can make some tea.”

“A cup of tea and a wee slice of pie would be _lovely_.  And I’d forgotten that ye help look after Fergus’ hound.  I’m nae a dog person myself, but I imagine she’s _quite_ good at turning away unwanted attention!”  She looked over as Bobby emerged from the bedroom wing with his bag.  “And who’s _this_ distinguished gentleman?”

Bobby dropped his duffel, stepped forward, and gingerly shook her small hand.  “Bobby Singer, ma’am.  I’m Dean’s foster father.”

“Wait, not the _hunter_?  Samuel, have ye gone completely _daft_ , bringing a hunter _here_?  And what have ye told him about _me_?”  Her expression was shocked and more than a little alarmed.

“I guess Crowley filled you in ‘bout him.  Trust me, this _ain’t_ a planned visit!  Bobby figured out where we are and showed up a few days ago, thinking that I still needed rescuing,” Dean explained ruefully as he put a kettle of water on the stove.  “We’ve convinced him that I’m fine and he don’t need to call out the cavalry.  But we know that everyone else ain’t just gonna accept that he ain’t a threat.”

“Which is where you come in, Rowena.  We’d like you to cast a geas on him so that he can’t reveal the community’s existence to outsiders and endanger all of us,” I put in.

“And do _ye_ agree to all of this, Mr. Hunter?”  The witch eyed Bobby skeptically.

He shrugged.  “Am I one hundred percent kosher with Sam and what happened to Dean?  Of course not!  But I believe that Dean _is_ happy here and that he feels Sam is good for him, and I gotta let him live his own life.  Plus Sam _is_ trying to do better, and I guess that’s what matters now. 

“Not doing something about the Food Market and its slave system don’t exactly sit right with me, but I get that going in guns blazing ain’t gonna solve anything and will leave a whole lotta dead bodies on both sides,” he continued.  “So I’m giving Sam and his people the benefit of the doubt that their methods will take it down without the collateral damage of a direct assault.  If the rest of your supernatural community can find ways to get by that don’t involve killing or imprisoning people, then I don’t got a problem with them.

“And as far as this geas idea goes, normally I ain’t a fan of compulsion spells—there are just too many opportunities for misuse.  We need some way to protect Dean—and Sam too—from the repercussions if my visit is discovered though.  As long as the geas is worded properly so that it can’t bite me in the ass, I’ll go along with the damn thing,” he concluded.

Rowena thought for a few minutes before nodding.  “Very well then.  The geas I’ll be casting will specify that ye cannae cause harm to the supernatural community as a whole through either word or deed.  So ye can still defend yourself if an individual member attacks ye, and ye can still talk about Samuel, for example, as long as ye dinnae mention anything that could lead back to the rest of us.  Is this acceptable to everyone?”

After we’d all assented, she rummaged through her bag and began setting up materials for the spell.  She mixed together woad, whiskey, and a small amount of Bobby’s blood and painted sigils on his arms and chest.  Once the symbols were dry, she circled him slowly with a bowl of lit incense while chanting in Gaelic and repeated this twice more.  The moment she was done, the sigils glowed brightly before fading completely away.

“There, the geas is complete.  It cannae be broken except by myself or a witch of higher power—and good luck finding one of _those_ in the phonebook!” she said briskly before sitting down again.  “I’d like that tea now, if ye dinnae mind.”

Bobby put his shirts back on and turned to look at Dean and me seriously.  “You call me the instant you figure out when this heat is gonna start, alright?  Or if you need help for any other reason.”

Dean set the tray he’d brought over to Rowena down and walked over to his adoptive father.  “We will.  Call me when you get back to Sioux Falls, and give Sheriff Mills and the others my regards.”

“It was good seeing you again, boy, and knowing that you’re doing so well.”  Bobby abruptly pulled the younger man into a hug.  He then gave me a direct stare.  “And I expect _you_ to take care of him properly.  Don’t gimme a reason to pump your ass full of rock salt!”

I smiled.  “Don’t worry—you won’t need to bring your shotgun because of me!  I’m glad to have met you, even if it wasn’t under the best circumstances.  Be safe driving home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this wraps up Bobby's visit, though we'll undoubtedly see him again. I couldn't resist freaking Bobby out with Juliet, though she won him over soon enough. The scene in the bookstore is partly a homage to the similar scene in Honey-Trapped (the sequel to Wrapped in Honey) and partly a good bonding experience for Sam and Bobby. We'll just have to see if Bobby's presence causes problems with the rest of the community . . .
> 
> I had a little trouble at first deciding how to portray Rowena's accent. Dialects can be tough to depict in print, since there's the danger of going too far and rendering the dialogue virtually illegible. Which is why Dean, Bobby, and others' more colloquial manner of speaking includes "ain't," "gonna," and other slangy terms without going into dropping the "g" in every "-ing," dropping the "o" in every "to," etc. that some writers get bogged down with. In Rowena's case, I wanted to include enough aspects of the Scottish burr to get the idea across without going overboard. I hope the result works for those reading this.
> 
> As I mentioned in last week's author's note, I originally planned to post this update yesterday before going out of town. But I didn't have enough time to do so before we had to leave, and fortunately we got home earlier today than anticipated. Next week's update will be back to its usual schedule. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	30. Chapter 30

As soon as I got settled at my desk the following morning, I called the locksmith and alarm company to make appointments to upgrade the security on our apartment.  Alastair’s men or anyone else who came after Dean might not be as good at breaking and entering as Bobby, but I wasn’t taking any chances.  I was going to ensure our home was as close to impenetrable as possible.

My next call was to the clinic, and after being on hold for a ridiculous amount of time, I was put through to Dr. Talbot.  She immediately asked, “Is Dean in heat now?  How soon do you need me to come over to help in your preposterous attempt to ‘control’ this?”

“No, his heat hasn’t started yet.  We no longer require your presence when it does—I did some further research and discovered that our original plan won’t work,” I replied.  “So it looks like we’ll be dealing with it the . . . ‘traditional’ way.”

“Good!  I _did_ tell you that your idea was rubbish, after all.  Is there something else you need instead?”

“There is, actually.  While looking up alternative solutions, I came across a drug that, while unsuccessful at _stopping_ a heat, is supposed to be effective at reducing its symptoms.  It’s readily available in Europe but still considered experimental here in the US,” I explained.  “Given how strong this heat is supposed to be, I figure anything that can lessen its severity will be beneficial.  But the only way to procure it is by doctor’s orders.”

“I see.  Give me the name of this medication, and I’ll check into it.  But before I consent to anything, I want to examine Dean again,” she said.  “Can you bring him in tomorrow morning?”

I agreed and gave her the information I had on the drug.  I was transferred back to the front desk to make the appointment.  I texted Dean to let him know and ignored his colorful response, since he was never happy to have to see Bela.

I then made a call to Benny.  “Hey man, I need your help.  I have to report something to the Security Commission, but _not_ to one of Alistair’s cronies.  I was hoping you know someone more fair-minded.”

“What’s going on, Sam?  Did something happen to you or Dean?”  Benny sounded concerned.

I checked to make sure the door to my office was closed and lowered my voice.  “Not exactly.  Bobby showed up at our place a few days ago—he managed to figure out where we were and came to rescue Dean.  We were able to convince him that Dean is happy with me, and he left last night after Rowena put a geas on him to prevent him from talking about what he learned here.”

“Damn!  I take it then that he found out ‘bout the community.  Is that gonna be a problem?” he asked.

“We _had_ to tell him—he already knew about me, and it was better he learn the rest from us than on his own.  He was rattled at first, but he seems to understand that there’s more good than bad here.  Even without the geas, I don’t think he’ll bring other hunters down on us,” I said.

“So why d’ya wanna talk to someone at Security?  I’d think you’d wanna _avoid_ them finding out!”  Now his voice was puzzled.

“They’re going to find out regardless, since Bobby didn’t know to hide his presence before he got to us.  I’d rather not be constantly worried about when and how they’re going to come after us.  If I go to them first, it shows that we have nothing to hide.  We can get our side of the story in before anyone jumps to the wrong conclusions,” I told him.

“Dean knows you’re doing this?”

“Of course—I wouldn’t do something like this without his permission!” I replied.  “We talked this over last night after Bobby left.  He’s not crazy about the idea, but he eventually agreed with me that the best defense is a good offense.”

“Alright then.  Well, I think I got an idea ‘bout who’d be best for you to talk to.  She’s a demon by the name of Meg—she’s smart, good at her job, and not terribly fond of the big man.  As long as you don’t bullshit her, I think she’ll be willing to handle this in a favorable manner,” Benny said.  “I reckon you wanna see her sooner rather than later, before anyone else finds out.  Lemme give her a call to arrange a meeting and get back to you.”

“Thanks, Benny.  I really appreciate your help here.”  I hung up and got to work.

I left the office a little early that afternoon and drove to the Security Commission’s building for the appointment Benny had set up.  I was directed to the third floor, where I waited in the reception area for a few minutes before being sent to an office down the hall.

Meg was petite, dark-haired, and looked to be in her late twenties—or at least her meat suit did.  She extended a hand as I came in.  “Hi, you must be Sam Campbell.  Benny told me you had something rather . . . _sensitive_ to report.  I took the liberty of pulling the files on you and your human companion to get up to speed.”

I shook her hand and sat down across from her.  “Yes, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.  If you’ve read our files, you know that we recently discovered that Dean’s foster father, Bobby Singer, is a hunter.  Well, he showed up at our apartment Thursday afternoon, planning to rescue Dean.”

She leaned forward.  “Well, _shit_!  How did he find you?  Did . . . _Dean_ give him your location?”

I shook my head decisively.  “No—at least not intentionally.  You have to understand that Dean’s happy to be with me now and doesn’t want to leave.  I used to monitor his calls and emails to Bobby, and he never tried to tell the man anything revealing, especially after learning he’s a hunter.  We’ve moved past that, and I trust that he hasn’t said anything recently either—like I said, Dean wants to stay here and understands the danger the hunter represents.

“No, what happened is pure coincidence.  Dean got a job working at Harvelle’s, but we didn’t realize that Bobby still kept in touch with Ellen—they knew each other from her first bar.  He was able to piece together from their various conversations that Dean, Ellen, and her daughter Jo were all talking about the same restaurant, which led him to this city,” I continued.  “He then was able to track down which law firm I worked at and from there got my full name and where I lived.  I came home on Thursday to find he’d broken into our apartment and was confronting Dean.”

“Did the hunter try to attack you?” she asked.

“He drew his gun when he saw my true form—I thought someone was assaulting Dean at first—but Dean stepped between us before the situation escalated,” I replied.  “He managed to convince his foster father that he wasn’t in any danger, and after some arguing Bobby agreed to stay for a few days to learn more about me and the community.”

Her brows rose.  “You _told_ him about us?”

I shrugged.  “We didn’t really have much choice.  He obviously already knew about _me_ , and he’s clever enough to have seen through any cover story we might’ve told about Dean’s presence here.  We decided it was better to have him hear the truth from us, where we could put a more sympathetic spin on the information, than let him root around on his own and potentially cause even more problems.”

I then went on to explain in detail what happened over the course of Bobby’s visit and finished with, “And Bobby left for Sioux Falls after Rowena finished casting the geas on him.  He does plan to come back when Dean’s heat starts to help us out.  Here’s a statement from Rowena verifying the nature and strength of the spell, as well as pictures I took of the sigils before they faded away.”

Meg, who’d been quiet during most of my account, looked at me curiously.  “I gotta say, Sam, it certainly takes guts to come here and admit to all this.  Most people would be trying their hardest to _hide_ what happened.”

I shrugged again.  “We didn’t do anything wrong, so why act guilty?  We didn’t lead Bobby here, and we did our best to persuade him that the community isn’t a threat, as well as ensure that he couldn’t do anything to put us in danger.  And reporting it myself guarantees that you get the whole story without any assumptions or misunderstandings.”

“I’ll have to investigate this further, you understand.  Obviously I can’t question Singer unless he comes back, but I’ll need to talk to Dean, Rowena, the Harvelles, and anyone else the hunter spoke to,” she said.  “If they corroborate your story, then I think you should be okay.  Voluntarily coming forward like this _does_ help put this incident in a more favorable light.”

“I don’t think Dean will mind talking to you, but I’d rather not bring him _here_ , if you don’t mind.  Someplace more neutral would be preferable,” I responded.

“That’s right—you had a less than pleasant run-in with the boss, I hear.  Alastair’s not used to being defied, so you’re not exactly his favorite person.  He’s also one of those alpha dickheads who thinks having an omega is a status symbol, and it _seriously_ chafes his ass that he doesn’t.”  She smirked at that.  “Luckily for you, I’m not part of his fan club, and I get not wanting to bring _your_ omega anywhere close to him.  If you’ll give me Dean’s number, I’ll see about questioning him along with the Harvelles at their restaurant.  Sound good?”

“Thanks, Meg.  I appreciate your assistance in handling this properly.”  I waited until she finished typing up my statement and signed off on it after reviewing its accuracy, then headed home.

Dean and I drove to the clinic early the next morning.  He tried to point out he could go by himself so I wouldn’t be late to work, to which I rebutted that I needed to be there to prevent him from punching the doctor.  We were taken to an exam room right away, where the nurse took his vitals and a blood sample and gave him a gown and a urine collection cup.  After Dean changed and gave the nurse the filled cup back, we sat and waited.

After an interminably long time, Dr. Talbot came in.  “Sorry about the delay, boys, but I had to wait for the results of Dean’s tests.  Let’s take care of the examination, and then we’ll go over everything.”

She first performed a routine physical inspection, checking his eyes, ears, throat, heart, and breathing.  She then had Dean lie back on the table and put his feet up in the stirrups for the andrological examination.  Unlike the first time, I didn’t turn away and instead held his hand.  When she was done, she stepped out to let Dean get dressed.

Upon her return, Bela announced briskly, “For the most part, there’s been definite improvement since your last visit.  Your weight is healthy, your muscle tone is better, and even your demeanor is calmer.  Your vital statistics and the general results from your bloodwork and urinalysis continue to look good.  Your omega channel is slicker and suppler than three months ago, though there _still_ appears to be no sign of recent intercourse.  You two geniuses _do_ know what’s required to get through this heat, correct?”

I took Dean’s hand again.  “Don’t worry, we’re getting there.”

“You’d better stop dawdling, because you don’t have much bloody time!” she snapped.  “Dean, your hormone levels are already at their peak, which means your heat is _imminent_.  We’re talking a few days at most, definitely less than a week.  So you both need to get over whatever’s holding you back _now_.”

He swallowed audibly but showed no other signs of distress.  “Okay, we get it!  I knew my heat was coming up soon, but . . . It’s good to have a firmer timeframe, so we got a better idea of long we have left to prepare.”

She frowned at both of us.  “I want to make sure you understand _exactly_ what you’ll be contending with.  We’re talking about _repeated_ bouts of intercourse, consisting of _multiple_ sex acts each time, over _all_ hours of the day and night for the better part of a _week_.  And given your heightened need during this particular heat, you should avoid supplementing with sex toys as much as possible—you need an alpha, not a hunk of plastic.

“Now Sam is a strong, healthy young man, but most men, even ones in peak condition, have a difficult time keeping up with a normal heat, let alone an extended one like this.”  She then paused to pull a sheet a paper out of a drawer.  “Here is a list of alphas that patients here have hired to assist them through their heats.  These men are all discreet, well-recommended, and have a clean bill of health.  This may not be what you want to hear, Sam, but this is more important than any alpha territoriality nonsense.  Dean could get sick or even _die_ if you can’t keep up with his needs.”

Dean squeezed my hand when I growled and retorted sharply, “You can forget that shit, lady, ‘cause it _ain’t_ fucking happening!  I’m fine with letting Sam take care of me ‘cause I trust _him_ , but no goddamn way is anyone _else_ touching me!  Besides, Sam ain’t some ordinary human dude—he’s an _incubus_.  Several days of nonstop fucking is probably like a damn holiday to him!  I ain’t doubting your medical expertise, but when it comes to sex, I’m gonna put my money on him.”

Bela just rolled her eyes.  “Perhaps you’re right about Sam’s . . . _prowess_.  But you’re still going to take this list, in case you’re _not_.  I can’t force you to use it—or to listen to bloody reason in general, it seems—but I _will_ do my due diligence by making sure you idiots have this information regardless!”

She took a deep breath to calm down.  “I do have another suggestion that might help, given how . . . _close_ you’ve apparently become.  Evidence suggests that mated omegas experience less severe heats, as long as they’re with _their_ alphas.  This is especially true when the omega is claimed during his or her heat—the physiological effects of the initial mating appear to temper the heat’s symptoms, sometimes even shortening it altogether.  It’s one of the _few_ beneficial reasons to allow omegas to be married off so disgracefully young!  So if the two of you were to—”

“Thank you for the suggestion, Dr. Talbot, since I know you’re trying to be helpful.  But that _won’t_ be happening either,” I interrupted firmly.  “We’re not going to rush into something as _hugely_ significant as a mating bond merely to possibly shave a day or two off of this heat.  And I’m certainly _not_ going to allow it to happen when Dean is unable to consent properly due to his hormones!  All we need from you right now is a prescription for a rush order of the medication I requested.”

“Fine, I’ll write the damn script!  I’m going to _enjoy_ gloating when you call for my assistance again,” she said irritably as she pulled out her prescription pad.  “One last thing though.  I recommend checking your temperature more frequently, Dean.  At your current hormone levels, if it remains elevated for eight hours or more, you should expect the onset of your heat within another twelve to sixteen hours. 

“As your full heat approaches, you’ll see your libido increase and your inhibitions decrease.  Make _sure_ you’re safely home and in Sam’s company before that point.  I’ll be _quite_ cross if I have to treat you for more than sex-related exhaustion or muscle strain!” she concluded.

We thanked her—somewhat grudgingly on the omega’s part—and went to the attached pharmacy to drop off the prescription.  They needed to get the drug overnighted since it wasn’t one they carried in stock, so we’d have to come back tomorrow to pick it up.

As he drove me to my office, Dean commented, “I guess it’s better that this shit’s going down sooner than later.  The reopening’s in a coupla weeks, and Ellen don’t need her head chef outta commission right before the big day!  I kinda feel bad for Bobby though—if we’d known there was so little time left, we coulda told him there’s no point in heading back.”

I smiled at him reassuringly.  “I doubt he’ll be too upset—he knows it’s not like we have any control over this.  You should send him a message today to update him.  I’ll inform the appropriate people at work that I’ll be taking heat leave most likely before the end of the week.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna tell Ellen the same.  Fortunately we got the essential hiring and ordering already done, and we should have time to finalize schedules and shit when I get back,” he said.

“It really _is_ great hearing you talk so authoritatively about the restaurant.  I see why Bobby was so pleased,” I commented.  “By the way, about the doctor’s last ‘suggestion’ . . .  I would _love_ to become your mate when the time is right, but not—”

“I get it, Sammy, and I agree,” he interrupted quietly.  “Getting mated when we’re ready will be _awesome_ , but we ain’t there yet.  There’s too much that’s new and uncertain, and we gotta work that shit out before taking such a big step.  I got no problem waiting.”

I worked through lunch so I wouldn’t need to stay late.  Dean’s demeanor seemed fairly calm when I got home.  Over pulled pork nachos, steak and chicken fajitas, corn salsa, and refried pinto beans, we talked about everything but his heat—our respective days at work, his conversation with Bobby, Meg’s upcoming visit to the restaurant to interview him and the Harvelles, and Juliet’s latest antics before Crowley had picked her up.  He continued to appear at ease while we played some foosball and air hockey afterward and watched _The Italian Job_ together.

By the time I came to bed, however, he’d apparently succumbed to his nerves.  His face was tight and his posture stiff as I lay down beside him, and there was no trace of arousal in his scent or emotions.

“Okay, how are we doing this shit?” he asked abruptly as soon as I was settled in.  “Like the doc said, we don’t got time to waste!  So how d’ya want me?”

I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him softly.  “Calm down, baby!  It’s not like your heat is starting tomorrow, so we do have a _little_ time.  I want to take care of you properly and make sure your first time is special, but now isn’t it.  Tonight is _just_ going to be about calming down and relaxing, and tomorrow night we’ll do everything the _right_   way.  You trust me?”

His tense muscles eased, and he nodded.  “Always, Sammy.  Sorry ‘bout this.  Now that we’re getting down to the fucking wire . . . I guess I’m more anxious than I thought.”

“That’s perfectly okay, dude.  Honestly, I’d be _more_ concerned if you acted like you were completely fine,” I told him.  “Now let me help you feel better.”

I started by kissing him gently and running my hands soothingly across his skin.  I let my lips and fingers roam around his body, licking and caressing until all traces of his unease had disappeared.  Only then did I raise myself up and reclaim his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, sliding my tongue into his mouth until I felt his desire kindle.  He sighed contentedly and leaned into me, his hands gripping my upper arms and his stiffening cock pressing against my belly.

I made my way down his body again, with the intent this time to stimulate instead of comfort.  Dean gasped as I wrapped my lips around one nipple and then moaned as I fondled his member.  I suckled for a moment before switching to the other nipple, then continued kissing and nipping down his chest and abdomen. 

When I reached his groin, I continued to stroke his shaft and began to suck at the head and lap at the frenulum.  As he swore breathily and dug his fingers into my shoulders, I slid my mouth down his length until my nose brushed the soft curls at the base.  At the same time, I slipped a finger into his channel and rubbed the tip against his prostate. 

The omega mewled and rolled his hips, then tried to reach for me.  “Fuck, Sammy!  I—I wanna . . .”

Guessing what he was asking for, I swung my body around to bring my pelvis within range without stopping what I was doing.  He curled his fingers around my cock and started jacking it firmly, then leaned forward to envelope the glans in his mouth.  Soon we were panting and thrusting into each other’s mouths, his hands grasping and kneading my buttocks, and my finger driving in and out of his entrance.  Eventually his hips stuttered, and he climaxed with a loud groan.  Tasting his seed in my mouth, feeling his lips tighten around my member, and feeding on the rush of his pleasure pushed me over the edge as well.

I turned around and fell back against the pillows facing him.  He meanwhile pulled a washcloth out of the nightstand and mopped us both up before collapsing on my shoulder with a happy purr.  I pulled him close and pressed my lips to his damp hair.

“Thanks, Sam, for not letting me get stuck inside my head and do something stupid,” Dean murmured.

“A little bit of freaking out is understandable in circumstances like this,” I replied softly.  “But try not to worry _too_ much.  The two of us will work this all out together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be all romance, fluff, and smut, as Sam tries to plan the perfect evening for Dean before they take the last step in their physical relationship. Hope you all enjoy it! :)
> 
> After some deliberation, I decided that Sam would want to take a frontal assault approach about Bobby's visit instead of hiding it, since he thinks it's inevitable that the Security Commission will find out about it. I also wanted to use Meg somehow, since she's always been a character I liked and wished we'd seen more of on the show (I know the actress originally left due to health issues but is interested in coming back). So we now have a potentially more sympathetic character in the Security Commission, and we'll have to see if she has any further part to play.
> 
> Dean also had to deal with visiting his favorite person again, the bitchy Dr. Talbot. It's hard to decide if Bela is only interested in not getting in trouble, or if there's even a teeny part of her that actually cares about her patients. As I mentioned before, she's another character I'd like to explore more, though I don't know if there's room for it in this story or not.
> 
> Monday we had to go to a funeral, and Wednesday I started my radiation treatments. I didn't get much writing done as a result, as my muse seems to have come down with a case of the blahs. I did note however that the Word doc for this story has reached over 200 pages and 120K words so far, which is definitely the most I've written for any one story. I'm currently working on Chapter 33, and I'm expecting this to hit at least 40 chapters before we're done. I knew this wasn't going to be a short story (even by my definition of "short"), but I didn't think it would turn into a novel-length work! I'll keep plugging away and hope that my muse recovers soon. In the meantime, constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	31. Chapter 31

“Hey man, you’re home early!” Dean exclaimed as he walked into the apartment the following evening.  He paused and took in my dove grey tweed suit, charcoal grey shirt, and burgundy tie and pocket square.  “Though that _ain’t_ what you were wearing this morning.  What’s up?”

I gave him a light kiss and took the grocery bags from him.  “I’m taking you out to someplace elegant for dinner.  Go wash up and change, and I’ll put this food away.  We’ve got about an hour before our reservations.”

“Is this a date?” he asked with an arch smile.

“Yes, it is, and we don’t want to be late.  So go pretty yourself up!”  I gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the bedroom.

I carried the bags to the kitchen and emptied them.  This shopping trip clearly had been to stock up in preparation for the heat—his purchases included packs of bottled water and Gatorade, protein bars, peanut butter crackers, and other high-energy snacks, and meals that even I could prepare, like sandwich fixings, canned soups and stews, and frozen pizza.  I put everything away and then sat down to wait.

Dean emerged roughly twenty minutes later, dressed in his burgundy suit and a black silk dress shirt.  He’d forgone a tie in favor of popping the top couple buttons of his shirt open, and he’d added the watch and bracelet I’d gotten him for the gala.  His hair was styled into artfully tousled spikes, his scent was masked by an expensive perfume, and he looked totally stunning.

He turned in place slowly.  “This good enough, dude?”

“ _Good_ is a serious understatement!” I replied appreciatively before taking his hand and leading him out.  I felt rather proud of my self-control, since a large part of me wanted to toss my plans for the night out the window and simply ravish him then and there.

“Where are we heading tonight?  Back to that steakhouse?”  He gave me an inquiring glance as we rode the elevator down.

“Not this time.  We’re going to the premier French restaurant in the city.  The firm often takes high-end clients there,” I explained.  “The head chef is rather eccentric—it’s said he dabbles in shamanism to control his health issues—but the food is phenomenal.”

When we arrived at the restaurant, the _maître d’hôtel_ took us to the second-floor dining room and seated us at a table by the large picture windows.  The room, like the larger dining room downstairs, was tastefully elegant, with round and square tables draped in white linens, padded chairs upholstered in cream leather, pale gold walls hung with impressionist landscapes, and dark hardwood floors polished to a smooth sheen.  It was easy to see that this room was reserved for members of the community, as many of the guests and staff were in their natural forms, and a guard waited unobtrusively by the door to prevent outsiders from entering.

Our server, an ōkami dressed simply in a white button-down and black slacks, brought us the menus and wine list.  After a brief consultation, we chose the five-course _prix fixe_ menu with wine pairings.  As she took our order, I noticed several curious or admiring glances directed our way.  My nostrils flared, and I realized that even with the blocker and cologne, hints of my companion’s beguiling scent were drifting out.

Dean gazed around the room after she left.  “Huh, this ain’t as stuffy as I expected.  Is it another of those places that serve . . . uh, cruelty-free food?”

“Yes, it is.  I try not to patronize businesses that acquire their material from the Market and similar sources, as do many of those who feel similarly.”  I paused and lowered my voice.  “I think your approaching heat is making your scent more potent.  It’s not extremely noticeable, but I can still detect it under the blocker.”

“Sonofabitch!  D’ya think we should go home then?  I don’t want a repeat of that assmunch from the steakhouse!” he said in concern.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.  Like I said, it’s not very strong, so it’s unlikely that anyone here will recognize what they’re smelling.  Even if someone does, I doubt they’ll try anything as long as we stay together.  So take your mind off of that—we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves tonight!”  I smiled at him and distracted him with questions about the upcoming restaurant opening until our food arrived.

The appetizer course was champagne-braised escargot in chartreuse-hazelnut butter, served with crisp baguettes and glasses of chardonnay.  The next course was wine-poached pear salad with seasonal greens, Roquefort cheese, Marcona almonds, and port vinaigrette, accompanied by a dry riesling.  This was followed by lavender-braised rabbit _pot au feu_ with spring vegetables and liver mousse, served with toasted country bread, whole grain mustard, and a light red zinfandel.  The fourth course consisted of beef bourguignon with baby carrots and mushrooms, served with _pommes Anna_ and a full-bodied pinot noir.  We finished with chocolate cake with gooseberries and crème fraîche ice cream, paired with a sweet muscat.

As was his wont at a good restaurant, Dean didn’t talk as much during the meal, focusing his attention on analyzing and appreciating the food.  He particularly enjoyed the dessert course, and his sounds of pleasure were more than a little distracting.  Which he noticed, of course, and reacted by running his foot up the inside of my leg under the table.

“Something got your attention, dude?” he asked innocently.

“Behave yourself, or you’ll have to worry about causing a _different_ kind of scene in this restaurant!” I growled playfully in response.

He merely smirked and slowly licked his fork clean.  Fortunately our server arrived with the check before my willpower completely eroded.  I paid our bill, seized his hand, and hurriedly dragged him out of the restaurant.  When we got to the parking lot, I kissed him bruisingly hard before climbing in the car.  By the time we arrived at home though, I’d managed to shove my inner Neanderthal back in his cave.  Tonight called for me to be thoughtful, not forceful. 

We hung our suit jackets on the chairs at the breakfast bar, and I grabbed a couple of cold bottles of water before following the omega out onto the terrace.  He sat down on a wrought iron bench facing out towards the western horizon.  I took a seat beside him, handed him a bottle, and slung an arm over his shoulders.  We silently watched the sun set and paint the sky in vivid shades of gold, scarlet, and violet.

“Wish I had a camera right now, dude,” he commented eventually, resting his head on my shoulder.

I looked down at him fondly.  “I didn’t know you were interested in photography.”

He shrugged.  “I ain’t really, but times like this almost make me wanna be.”

Once the sun sank below the edge of the skyline, I bent down and kissed him softly.  “Let’s head to the bedroom now, okay?”

We went to our room, and I led Dean to the dressing area between the walk-in closets, where I cupped his face between my hands and gave him a series of slow, deep kisses.  He leaned into my mouth with a moan and began unbuttoning my shirt.  I in turn tugged his shirt out of his waistband and slid my hands underneath and up the firm planes of his abdomen.  I pulled away from his lips and focused on undoing the buttons on his shirt and on his trousers, trying not to become distracted by his hands caressing my chest through my undershirt.  I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and trousers and boxer-briefs off his hips and deposited them on a nearby chair.  With the help of his clever hands, I quickly undressed as well.

We resumed kissing ardently, our hands roaming across the other’s skin.  After a couple of minutes, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the bedroom.  When we got to the bed, I gently pushed him down until he was lying against the pillows mounded at the headboard.  I then went around the room lighting the candles I’d placed on the nightstands, dresser, and various end tables and bookshelves and turned off the overhead lights.  When I returned to the side of the bed, I turned on my iPod and set it to a playlist I’d prepared of classic rock love ballads.

Dean smiled up at me.  “You’re really pulling out all the damn stops here, Sammy!”

“I told you I wanted to make tonight special for you,” I replied as I stretched out beside him and admired the way the candlelight gleamed off his dark gold hair and gilded his fair skin.

He reached for me and claimed my lips in a passionate kiss.  He worked his way across my jaw to nibble and suck on my ear, and I ran my hands up his sides and chest to toy with his perky nipples.  He hummed in satisfaction as I flicked and squeezed the tender nubs and bit at my earlobe when I slid a hand down to stroke his hard cock.  I rubbed along his length several times before moving down so I could take him in my mouth.  He gasped as I swirled my tongue around his glans and pressed it against his frenulum, then proceeded to suck him completely down.  He tugged on my hair as I bobbed my head up and down on his member, while my fingers rolled and fondled his balls.

He was soon panting heavily and bucking his hips.  “Wa—wait, Sam!  I’m gonna . . . gonna cum if you keep doing that!”

I didn’t stop and instead suckled and licked even more vigorously.  He suddenly ejaculated with a choked cry, and I swallowed his seed down.

“Oh man, that was _awesome_!”  He gave me a confused look.  “But I thought we were . . . were gonna . . .”

I kissed him with a smile.  “Don’t worry—we’re just getting started!”

Once Dean had caught his breath, I pushed his legs up until he grasped the backs of his thighs.  I rubbed a couple of fingers against the responsive skin of his perineum, then massaged the sensitive muscle around his entrance.  As he sighed and relaxed even more, I bent down and licked the pink pucker, my tongue pressing against it and running over the firm flesh surrounding it.  He gasped in delighted surprise, and his cock twitched and began to perk up with interest. 

I continued to lavish attention on his hole, lapping at its edges and pushing my tongue just inside the ring of muscle.  He was soon keening and arching his back, his member now proudly erect.  I sat up and wiped my mouth, then inserted two fingers into his loosened entrance and pumped them in and out of his moist passage. 

“How are you doing, baby?  Are you ready for more?” I crooned, my fingers still moving.

“ _Fuck_!  I—I want . . . I wanna . . . _ahh!_ ”  He visibly made an effort to get himself under control momentarily and met my eyes.  “Make it good for me, Sammy.”

I studied the omega’s expression, searching underneath the heady desire.  There was some uncertainty but no fear, and I could see that his faith in me outweighed the anxiety.  I bent down to kiss him tenderly and then straightened, pulled my fingers out, and slicked up my cock with his fluids.  I positioned the head against his hole and watched his face as I carefully started to press inside.  He bit at his full lower lip and let his long lashes fall to screen his eyes as my member breached the outer ring of muscle, and I paused to give him a chance to adjust.

Sensing no distress, I eased forward a little more before stopping again.  “Are you okay?  Do you need more time?”

He opened his eyes and moved his hands to squeeze my arms reassuringly, letting his legs fall to clasp my waist.  “I’m fine, sweetheart—it’s just that you’re kinda fucking _big_.  But you don’t hafta go so slow—I’m an omega after all, so I’m sorta _made_ for this.”

I nodded and pushed inwards until my pubic hair brushed up against his ass.  He felt _incredible_ —just as tight as the betas I was used to, but hotter and wetter.  He was smoother as well, even with the scarring, which merely provided an intriguing texture against my skin.  I gave a little groan at the sensations before bracing my hands against his thighs and beginning to move.

I kept my thrusts long and slow at first, making sure to brush against his prostate every couple of passes.  He gasped at that and tried to roll his hips with my strokes.  I sped up my pace a bit, and his legs tightened around my waist, his inner walls flexing around my shaft.  I listened to his panting breath, gazed at his flushed features, and inhaled his captivating aroma.  More importantly, I felt his wonder, passion, and affection enveloping me as thoroughly as his channel was encasing my cock.

“Oh Dee, I wish you could experience this, how absolutely amazing you feel in _every_ way!” I moaned while drawing back until my glans almost caught on his rim and then plunging back in to the hilt.

Dean canted his pelvis to better receive me before responding, “It feels pretty damn spectacular from here!  Now less talking and more fucking, dude!”

I snorted at his bluntness but gave him what he wanted, pushing his legs up to rest on my shoulders and driving into him with increasing intensity.  He rocked his hips to meet my thrusts and was soon crying out loudly and digging his fingers into the sheets with each graze against his prostate.  We moved together like this for an untold amount of time, while the room echoed with the creaking of the bed, the slapping of our bodies joining, and the vocal sounds of our pleasure.

Eventually I could tell that his passion was approaching its crest, and I started pounding into his passage forcefully, hitting his prostate with each stroke.  Before I could reach down to jack his cock, he shuddered and wailed as his channel clenched around me, his semen shooting over his belly.  I skimmed off the exhilarating rush of energy from his orgasm and surged into him a couple more times before cumming hard with a loud shout.

His legs slipped back down to the bed, and I leaned over him, propping myself up with my hands resting on either side of his torso.  His tawny hair was damp with sweat, his large eyes heavy with spent passion, his curved lips swollen with kisses, his freckled skin ruddy with exertion, and he never looked more beautiful.  He gazed up at me with a sated smile, and a wave of joy, awe, and love washed over me.

I caught his lips in a long, languid kiss and then rested my forehead on his.  “How was that, baby?”

“God, Sammy, I—I dunno what to say!  Is it . . . is it always like this?”  His eyes were glistening, and his muscles were still trembling in reaction.

“I told you before that making love could be wonderful, especially with the right partner.  And I hope this continues to get even _better_ for both of us!”  I kissed him again before gingerly pulling out and rolling to one side.  “Do you feel alright?  Nothing is stiff or sore?”

“Nah, everything is _awesome_ , man!” Dean declared contentedly, before reaching for the nightstand drawer.

I grabbed his hand.  “Wait—I have a better idea for cleaning up.  Come with me!”

He followed me into the bathroom, where I went to the soaker tub and turned on the taps.  I fiddled with the knobs until the water was pleasantly hot, then poured in some apple-scented bubble bath.  While the tub filled, I lit the candles I’d also placed in here and then turned off most of the lights.

He eyed my preparations with a bemused expression.  “Dude, a _bubble bath_?  Really?”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it!” I retorted with a grin.

Seeing that the tub was over half-full, I climbed inside and held out a hand.  The omega took it and stepped into the tub beside me.  I sat with my back resting on the porcelain tub wall and watched him gracefully sink down and lean against my chest.  The water felt soothing after our recent activities and smelled delightful as it mingled with his fragrant aroma.

“Okay, maybe this ain’t half-bad.”  He waved a hand through some of the bubbles and glanced up at me.  “I wanna thank you, Sam.  Not just for tonight—which has been fucking _great_!—but also for caring and not giving up on me, even with how much of a hot mess I’ve been sometimes.”

“You’re welcome.  It’s been an honor and a pleasure to be with you, never a chore.  And we wouldn’t have gotten so far if it wasn’t for your strength and resilience.  You’re an _astonishing_ man, Dean Winchester.”  I gave him a heartfelt kiss before continuing.  “I’m also glad that you seem to be more accepting . . . of your designation, of your upcoming heat, even of your past.”

“That’s ‘cause of _you_ , man.  Before, all that was too much to deal with, and it was easier to just avoid the whole damn mess.  But now with you understanding and supporting me, this shit don’t seem so insurmountable anymore.”  He smiled at me gratefully.  “Even the idea of mating—before it felt like a trap, and I thought one of the worst things that could ever happen was getting chained to some dick of an alpha.  Now though, I’m looking forward to becoming your mate when we’re both ready.”

“I am too.”  I kissed him again and ran my hands caressingly over his chest.

I let my hands roam over his smooth skin for a while, until I heard his breathing start to quicken.  I then slipped one down to wrap around his cock and stroke, while I dropped my lips to kiss and suck at the base of his neck.  He moaned and ground his ass back when he felt my member stiffen against him.

I lifted my head to murmur in his ear, “Ready to try for another round?”

Dean’s response was to turn around so that he was straddling my thighs, sling his arms around my neck, and kiss me.  I grasped his hips, lifted him up, and slowly lowered him onto my cock.  He gave a pleased sigh as he sank down around me and a happy hum as I started to thrust up into him.  His channel was just as heated and taut as before as it slid around my shaft.  I raised him up and down on my length a couple times, and then he caught on and began to push himself up and drop down in time with my strokes.

We kept our movements light and unhurried, exchanging kisses and touching each other tenderly wherever we could reach.  The omega seemed more comfortable this second time around and more confident now that he had some measure of control.  He gradually picked up speed, riding my shaft with increasing enthusiasm and gasping in gratification as he angled himself to stimulate his prostate with each plunge.  I kept my grip soft and let him lead, content to watch him pleasure the both of us.

It took a while this time to reach our climax.  I managed to hold back long enough until he groaned and clamped down around my cock, and then I cried out and pulsed deep inside him.  He collapsed against my chest, and I put my arms around him and rubbed his back.  We lay like that and panted together for a few minutes.

Dean lifted his head and regarded the water splashed all over the outside of the tub and the floor.  “Mrs. O’Rourke is gonna be fucking _pissed_ if we don’t clean some of this up, man!”

Despite her having worked here since before I bought this apartment, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d met my housekeeper.  Like most brownies, she didn’t like to be seen and preferred to work late at night when we were asleep.  She still had ways of expressing her displeasure at what she felt was excessive untidiness, such as leaving angry notes, spoiling the milk, or letting spiders inside.  Mrs. O’Rourke had generally been in a better mood though since Dean had made the place homier and started leaving bowls of porridge laced with cream, butter, and honey with her weekly payment.

“We’ll mop up the worst of this mess.  She’s not due to come back for a few days anyway,” I said.  “You want to go back to bed now?”

He nodded, and we got out of the tub and pulled the drain.  He fetched some additional towels after we’d dried each other off, and we spread them around to soak up the spilled water.  I gave the tub a quick rinse, and then we returned to the bedroom.

Once we were curled around each other in the bed again, Dean murmured.  “Thanks again, Sammy.  Tonight’s been one of the best nights I’ve had in a while!  This’ll go a long way towards helping me reclaim what was taken from me all those years ago.”

I kissed him gently.  “I’m glad you enjoyed this, honey.  And we’ll keep going until you have nothing but good memories.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as promised, a chapter of nothing but romance and smut. Dean's outfit is based on the suit Jensen wore to the 2013 People's Choice Awards ceremony. For their fancy meal, I raided the menus of various French restaurants in the closest city to me for inspiration. And the mention of photographing the sunset is a reference to a similar bit in Wrapped in Honey. Coming up soon will be Dean's heat . . .
> 
> In case anyone's wondering about the random mention about Sam's housekeeper, that came about because I realized after recently rereading the early chapters that I'd briefly brought her up in Chapter 2 and then forgot about her afterwards. I'm sure most people didn't really notice, but it was kind of bugging me, particularly since Dean should've interacted with her regularly while he was confined to the apartment. I couldn't just go back and insert the character into the earlier chapters--one of the issues with posting while still writing. Fortunately the lore on brownies worked in my favor, since they do prefer not to be seen. So I added the quick reference to her in this chapter to tie up the loose end and made up a name, as opposed to using a character from the show (or WiH, as in the case of Mr. Briggs from the Market), since it's likely we'll never actually meet her. This was overall a minor issue, but I can get a bit anal-retentive about the details sometimes. :)
> 
> Sorry to be posting this chapter so late in the day, but I got sucked into Tumblr after coming home from my radiation appointment today and completely lost track of the time. Next week's update should go up Monday afternoon or evening as normal. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	32. Chapter 32

I woke up hot and sweaty the next morning and quickly realized the source of the problem.  “ _Dean_!  Dude, wake up!  You feel like a furnace!”

“Huh?  Wha—?”  Dean rolled over and looked up at me, his green eyes still foggy with sleep.  “D’ya think it’s started already?”

“The preliminary stage might be, yes.  I’ll get the thermometer.”  I got up and hurried to the bathroom.

I returned quickly with the thermometer, which he dutifully stuck in his mouth.  After it beeped ten seconds later, he took it out and looked at the reading.

“What is it?” I demanded impatiently.

“Just over a hundred degrees.  This is gonna make being in the kitchen at the restaurant today _suck_!” he replied with a grimace.

“Don’t even bother.  I’m going to call the office to tell them I’m taking heat leave effective today, and you should do the same with Ellen.  After all, neither of us is going to be able to concentrate on anything useful between your temperature readings,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted.  “I dunno if I should call Bobby yet though.  It’s only been one reading so far.”

“I think it’s a good idea.  It’s not likely that you’re running a fever from the flu or something.  And he’s going to need as much notice as possible to get here in time,” I responded.

I handed him his phone and took mine over to the sitting area, where I called my firm to inform them I would be out for the next several days.  When I went back towards the bed, Dean was promising Ellen he’d take care of himself and telling her goodbye.  I sat on the edge of the bed as he dialed Singer Salvage and put the phone on speaker.

“Morning, Bobby.  Sorry to be calling so early—hope we didn’t wake you up or anything,” he said.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, boy—you know I ain’t the type to sleep in.  I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon though.  What’s the matter?”  Bobby’s voice sounded concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong, but . . . it looks like this heat crap may be starting sooner than anticipated.  I saw the doc a coupla days ago, and she said my hormones were peaked out.  And I just woke up with a fever of a hundred point two,” Dean explained.  “This might not be anything, since we need to measure my temp for at least eight hours to be sure.”

“Ignore that last part, Bobby.  We all know there isn’t another probable reason for his elevated temperature,” I interjected.  “We wanted to tell you now to give you more time to make your travel arrangements.  Will you need help booking a flight?  I know someone at a travel agency here who can find you something quickly and at a relatively reasonable rate.  Or I can wire money to you for the tickets.”

“I got my own contacts that should be able to hook me up with a plane and rental car real fast, though I’ll take you up on _your_ friend if they can’t come through in time.  And I got some money squirreled away that should be enough to cover this,” Bobby replied.

“Okay, man, that sounds great.  Lemme know when you figure out when you can get here.  And give us the costs of everything so we can pay you back.  You’re helping _us_ out, so you _ain’t_ footing the bill yourself!” Dean insisted.

“We’ll discuss _that_ when I get there.  You take it easy, kid.”  Bobby then hung up.

“I think that’s excellent advice, dude.  You should try to go back to sleep for a while.  I’ll make sure that everything is ready for when your heat begins for real,” I told the omega.

The first thing I did after a quick breakfast was wash all the towels and bed linens in the laundry hampers, as well as any of Dean’s t-shirts and sleep pants in there.  I made sure both guest rooms were clean and had fresh towels and sheets and tidied up the rest of the apartment as best I could.  I then starting putting together a list of any additional groceries or supplies we still could use.

Dean wandered into the kitchen at this point, dressed in a snug Black Sabbath t-shirt and distressed jeans, and started pulling out ground beef and various seasonings.  “Bobby texted that his flight will be arriving around eight, and he’s gonna take a cab or Uber from the airport to here.”

“Did you measure your temperature again?”

He nodded.  “It’s up another half a degree.  I’ll check it again later this afternoon, but it sure looks like this heat shit is on.  I’m gonna make some dishes for the next few days, ones that’ll last for at least a coupla meals, so that we ain’t living on nothing but fucking frozen pizza and hot dogs and crap.”

“Are you sure you should be doing so much?  I can get more food when I go out later.”  I showed him my list as I spoke.

“I ain’t an invalid, dude!  The sorta stuff I got yesterday and you wrote down there is fine for lunches and snacks, but we’re still gonna need more.  And you know that cooking helps me relax,” he retorted.

“I just want you to conserve your energy, since the next several days are going to be tiring.  If you insist on doing this, then you’re going to let me help.  I can do the prep work for you, like washing and cutting,” I said.

“Okay.  Well, to start, why don’t you slice up some tomatoes and onions for these burgers?”  He handed me a knife.

After lunch, we prepared lasagna with spicy sausage, spinach, and cremini mushrooms, wine-marinated pot roast braised with brandy and pancetta, lemon-garlic roast chicken with onion gravy, cornbread stuffing with chorizo, cherries, and pecans, mashed potatoes with buttermilk and herbed Boursin cheese, and broccoli casserole with sharp white cheddar and Havarti cheeses, shallots, and brown rice.  Once everything was in the double ovens, I shooed him out of the room with orders not to do anything more strenuous than play video games or watch a movie.  I cleaned up the kitchen and then went to the grocery store with my list.

When I returned, Dean was back in the kitchen, taking some of the dishes out of the ovens and placing them on the counter to cool.  He glanced up as I approached and grinned happily.  His emerald eyes were feverishly bright, their gold flecks almost glowing, and his bewitching scent was strong enough to overwhelm the aromas of the food.  As soon as his hands were free of the oven mitts, he pulled me into a hug and kissed me enthusiastically.  I had to step back when he tried to tongue my lips open.

He frowned up at me.  “Hey, what’s up with that shit?  I _missed_ you, Sammy!”

“I don’t want to start something serious while all this stuff still needs to be put away.  It’s also dinnertime, and I’m famished, man!  Besides, I wasn’t gone all _that_ long,” I pointed out.  “I think your pre-heat symptoms are progressing.  Are you feeling particularly aroused?”

“Not more than usual when you’re around, though I _really_ wanna be near you and touch you right now.  Huh!  I guess the damn hormones _are_ starting to do their thing!”  He looked chagrined.

“Don’t feel bad—this _is_ what we’ve been expecting.  Once we taken care of the food and groceries though, you should take the first dose of that medication.  It’s recommended you start taking it eight to twelve hours before full onset of your heat for the best results,” I responded.

We put away my purchases and had some of the lasagna for dinner.  The omega was much more handsy than normal throughout and seemed happiest when plastered against my side.  After packing the last of the food away in the fridge, we decided to take a dip in the pool to help him cool down.

We both swam laps for a little while, until he herded me towards the shallow end of the pool.  There he pressed me up against the tiled steps and kissed me urgently, his fingers tugging at the ties on my trunks.  I kissed back more leisurely and caressed his back and buttocks, trying to calm him with my lips and hands.  He merely pulled back and yanked his swim shorts off impatiently, then arranged himself on his knees with his elbows resting on the top step.  I pushed my trunks down enough to free my cock, stepped up behind him, and sank into his waiting channel.

Dean sighed in relief as I slid home and started thrusting steadily into his depths.  He braced his hands against the edge of the pool and rocked back on my member, moaning softly each time it grazed his prostate.  I in turn grasped his hips and reveled in feeling his snug passage sliding around me as I plunged into him and tasting his pleasure as it sparked higher with every stroke. 

I kept driving into his slick channel, while he keened and squeezed rhythmically around my shaft.  I sped up my pace when my climax neared, snapping my hips briskly against his ass.  Soon he cried out and tightened abruptly around me, which caused me to shout and spend myself within him.  He slumped against the steps and panted heavily, his inner walls trembling around my cock.

I slid an arm around Dean’s waist and turned us to sit on the middle step with him resting on my lap, then nuzzled the side of his neck.  “How are you feeling now?  You don’t seem quite as overheated as before.”

He sighed and leaned his head back on my shoulder.  “Physically I’m doing okay—the water’s cooled me down some, and I’m feeling less antsy after the ride you just gave me.  But for the rest of it . . . I’m _scared_ , man.  Not ‘bout the sex—you’ve helped me get over most of that shit.  It’s the fucking loss of _control_ that’s bugging me.  It ain’t that I don’t trust you—I _know_ you’ll make sure nothing happens that I ain’t okay with.  But the thought of losing myself to these goddamn hormones and not knowing what’s going on is _really_ getting to me.”

“That’s understandable, especially given what happened before.  That’s one of the symptoms that the pills you’ve started taking are supposed to alleviate though.  And you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.  Hopefully between your force of will and the meds, you’ll be able to retain more of yourself during the heat.  And regardless of what happens, I’ll take care of you and keep you safe.  Bobby will be here too, and we can borrow Juliet again for added protection if needed,” I replied with a reassuring hug.

“I know, Sam.  I don’t think anything’s _really_ gonna happen, ‘cept for a whole lotta fracking!  It’s just . . . I dunno . . . I just hate feeling helpless, I guess.”  He shrugged.  “Though if the hormones _do_ take over, I suppose I ain’t gonna be aware enough to freak out.”

“Don’t go looking for trouble before it starts, dude!  We’ll deal with whatever comes up together, okay?”  I kissed his temple.  “We should shower and get dressed soon.  It won’t be long before Bobby arrives, and we probably shouldn’t traumatize him unnecessarily!”

That elicited a chuckle.  “Yeah, he’s already gonna learn _way_ more than he ever wanted ‘bout our love life once this gets into full swing, so we don’t wanna add to it.  As it is, I dunno if we can afford the therapy bill he’s gonna send us!”

We relaxed where we were for a few more minutes, then got out of the pool, dried ourselves off, and went inside.  We took a shower together and fooled around there a bit before getting dressed.  We settled down in the living room to watch _Tombstone_ on HBO, with Dean sitting on the rug in front of me so I could massage his neck and shoulders.

The movie was only about a third of the way through when Bobby arrived.  Dean immediately got up when the doorbell rang to let him in.  “Hey Bobby!  Did you have any problems getting here?  Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“Eh, the flight was uneventful, and I actually had an interesting conversation on the way over here with my Uber driver.  I wouldn’t say no to some grub though—the airline’s idea of food is even less appetizing than public school lunches!” Bobby answered as he brought his bags in.  “How are you doing, boy?”

Dean hurried over to the kitchen and took the lasagna out of the fridge before responding.  “Not too bad right now.  My temp keeps going up—last check was almost a hundred and two—and I’ve apparently been clingier with Sam than usual, but that’s been ‘bout it so far.”

“Why don’t you come with me while he’s reheating dinner for you?  You can wash up and get settled in a little before eating.”  I picked up one of his duffels, which by the weight and clanking I suspected contained weapons among other things, and led him into the bedroom wing.

“Is this Dean’s old room?” he asked as he followed me into the guest room and set his bag on the bed.

I put the other bag down by the closet.  “Yeah, it is.  It’s bigger and has its own en-suite, so it’s more suitable for an extended stay.  The only drawback for . . . err, noise issues is that you’ll be right next to our room.  Though this room is by the sitting area as opposed to the bed, which might help a little.”

“I suspect there ain’t gonna be anyplace in this apartment to get away from the ‘sound effects’ once you two are really going at it!  I came prepared though—brought music, a pair of those fancy noise-cancelling headphones, and a whole bag of earplugs,” he said.  “How soon is his heat expected to start?”

“From what Dr. Talbot told us, I’d say sometime later tonight or early tomorrow morning,” I replied.

“You weren’t kidding before ‘bout there not being a lot of time left!” he exclaimed.  “You’d better fill me in on what I need to know after I eat, since it’s likely you’ll be too . . . _busy_ to talk much tomorrow.”

We returned to the kitchen, where Dean had a plate of hot food for the older man and bottles of cold beer for all of us.  While Bobby ate, Dean filled him in on what had happened in the past few days, including the meetings with Meg.  The hunter seemed dubious about the wisdom of informing the Security Commission about his visit, but there wasn't much he could argue about after the fact.

Once he was finished with his meal, we showed him how to arm and disarm the security systems, both physical and metaphysical, and gave him a set of spare keys.  We also provided him with a list of phone numbers of people to contact in case of problems, such as Dr. Talbot, Benny, and Crowley.  Dean reluctantly peeled himself from my side to show the older man where everything was in the kitchen while I washed the dishes and then took him over to the media room to demonstrate how the various entertainment systems worked.

“Alright, I think I got a handle on what I need to know for the next several days.  Looks like you boys are pretty well prepared,” Bobby commented after Dean brought him back.  “Don’t you worry ‘bout food or visitors or anything else—I got that covered.  It’s been a long day, so I’m gonna hit the sack.  You should do the same—you’re gonna need as much rest as you can get.”

“Yessir!”  Dean sketched a mock-salute and ducked his foster father’s playful swat with a laugh.

“Idjit!” Bobby responded fondly before heading to his room.

“This isn’t something I thought I’d ever say until recently, but I’m glad he’s here,” I admitted as we walked to our room.  “I feel more reassured knowing there’s someone else here who cares about you if we need help.  I mean, Charlie or Jo or one of the others would be glad to come over too, but it’s not quite the same.”

“Especially since most of ‘em ain’t as comfortable with a shotgun, just in case shit hits the fan,” Dean pointed out.  “But yeah, having Bobby here is good.  I just hope there _ain’t_ gonna be any major problems for him to hafta deal with.”

I put my arms around him and kissed him soothingly before we went into the bathroom.  When he emerged after taking a thorough shower, I took one look at the anxiety roiling beneath his stoic façade and fetched the massage oil.  I then coaxed him into lying down on his stomach, straddled his hips, and spread the oil across his back.  I proceeded to knead the stiffness and tension from his muscles, while he moaned and purred in appreciation.  The intoxicating omega odor permeating the room had me half-hard, but I kept my movements comforting instead of sensual.

Once he was loose and relaxed, I bent down and murmured, “What do you want now, Dean?”

He rolled over and looked up at me a bit shyly.  “I know this sounds totally sappy, but I think I just wanna be held right now, man.”

I stretched out on the bed, and he immediately pushed up against me, threw an arm over my chest, and rested his head on my shoulder.  I curled my arms around him tightly and kissed him gently.  “Never be ashamed to ask for affection, baby.  Everything doesn’t have to be about sex, not even for an incubus.”

“I know, Sammy.  I guess I just spent so long projecting this macho image, trying to hide from everyone, that sometimes I forget I don’t need that shit anymore—at least not with you.”  He sighed.

“No, we don’t have to conceal anything from each other anymore.”  I kissed him again tenderly.  “I get that this is a situation that you never wanted to be in, and I’m amazed at how well you’re handling it.  Some fear and uncertainty is to be expected, but you’re _not_ raging or panicking the way you used to.  I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.”

A flush spread across his freckled cheeks.  “It ain’t that big a deal.  A lotta this is ‘cause of _you_ , after all.  I wouldn’t be dealing with this crap half as well if you weren’t here.”

“Well, don’t worry—I’ll always be here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dean's full heat is due to begin any moment now, and Bobby is back to help take care of Sam and Dean while they're "busy." The next couple chapters or so will show how the boys are dealing with the heat. So expect quite a bit of smutty goodness!
> 
> Unfortunately my writing has stalled out on Chapter 33 for the past couple of weeks--basically ever since I started the radiation treatments, my brain has gone "Nope!" most of the time when I try to write. This has killed my buffer, so I need to finish the chapter this week to maintain my usual posting schedule. I did get some inspiration today, so I hope to complete the chapter in the next couple of days, and then keep my fingers crossed that I don't have similar problems with the next chapter. So I will try to have an update ready for next Monday evening, but if it's not then I will post it as soon after as I can. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	33. Chapter 33

I was awakened several hours later by Dean’s lips sucking at my throat and his hands stroking my cock.  In the dim predawn light, his wide eyes shone a warm gold instead of their usual verdant hues, his normally fair skin was flushed and scorching hot, and his dusky member was almost painfully stiff.  The air was redolent with his delectable fragrance, which was even more intense than before.

He lifted his head the moment I stirred and gave me a beseeching stare.  “Sam?  Sorry I woke you, but I—I couldn’t help it.  I need . . . I _need_ —”

I hushed him with a kiss.  “No need to apologize, Dee.  What would you like me to do?”

He immediately rolled over and pushed himself up on his hands and knees, arching his back invitingly.  I took the obvious hint and positioned myself behind him, where I first ran my hands soothingly over his back and pressed a kiss to his nape.  As he relaxed under my touch, I spread his buttocks and licked down to his inviting entrance, which was already moist and unrestricting.

He made a whining noise deep in his throat.  “Fuck!  Sammy, _please_ —I gotta have you _now_!”

I straightened and slid my hands over to his hips, then lined up my cock and pushed into his waiting passage.  Dean felt impossibly hot and wet inside, and I groaned as his inner walls constricted around me.  He dropped his shoulders to the mattress and pushed his ass back against me as I began thrusting forcefully.  He cried out ecstatically as I drove into him, angling to hit his prostate repeatedly.

I knew that this was not the time for slow or gentle, that what he needed was to be brought to completion and filled with my seed as often as possible before we tired out.  Therefore I didn’t hold back when my passion crested, and I felt him shudder and clench around me as I pulsed deep within him.  I continued to pound into his moist channel, feeling him quiver around me and hearing him moan hoarsely.  I worked both of us to climax twice more before rolling to one side and pulling him down with me.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked as I arranged our limbs more comfortably.

He leaned against my chest and blinked up at me with those gleaming gilt eyes, his channel trembling faintly around my shaft.  “Better—I’m still horny, but it ain’t so damn overwhelming anymore.  And hey, I can still _think_!  I was expecting to be a needy fucking mess by now.”

“I noticed!  I _knew_ you’d be stronger than your hormones, baby.  The medication probably helped too,” I replied with a smile.  “I should get up soon.  You’re probably due for your next dose at this point, and I also want to check your temperature.”

“Let’s wait a few minutes, sweetheart.  This is really nice right now—I like feeling you inside me like this.”  He wriggled against me sensuously as he spoke.

“As you wish, love!”  I dropped a kiss on his lips and settled back.

We lay together for a while, catching our breaths and trading languid kisses.  Eventually I withdrew from his embrace, but went over to the chest at the foot of the bed first.  I opened it and perused its contents before fishing out an anal plug.  This was one of my larger plugs, nearly as wide as my cock and more than long enough to reach his prostate.

Dean eyed the toy as I approached.  “Thought the doc said no dildos and shit?”

“I think the intent is not to use sex toys in place of intercourse with an alpha,” I responded.  “But since we’re _not_ actually having sex right now, I thought that this might help.  You seemed to enjoy being filled, so this plug should take care of that when I can’t.  And since an alpha’s . . . err, essence appears to be necessary during a heat, this will hopefully help to keep more of what you need from leaking out.  So, would you like to try it?”

“Huh!  I hadn’t thought ‘bout that.  Guess it can’t hurt to give it a shot, right?” he said with a shrug.

I coated the anal plug with some lube and sat down beside the omega.  After he bent his knees and spread his legs to bare his hole, I slowly inserted the toy, pushing it in until the flared base was flush against his ass.  I studied his expression for a moment, and after only finding pleasure there, turned it on to the lowest vibration setting.

“Fuck, you didn’t tell me it’s a vibrator too!” he exclaimed.  “This is _awesome_!”

I handed him the small remote.  “You can use this to increase the speed if you want.  I’ll be right back.”

With that, I made my way to the bathroom, where I fetched his pills, the thermometer, and a glass of cold water.  I also dropped a couple washcloths into a basin and partially filled it with lukewarm water.  Back in the bedroom, Dean took the meds and stuck the thermometer in his mouth.  I wrung out one of the washcloths and gently swabbed his groin and abdomen while we waited for the beep.

“Not too bad—your temp went up by less than a degree,” I noted when he showed me the reading.  “If we can keep it from rising much further, we shouldn’t need to worry.”

“Which, according to Dr. Bitch, can be best accomplished by further applications of your cock to my ass,” he pointed out with a lascivious grin.  “So get over here!”

I made him drink the rest of the water first, then set the glass and thermometer on the nightstand and the basin on the floor.  The anal plug and its remote also wound up on the nightstand after I carefully removed it and shut it off.  He gave an impatient growl until I stretched out next to him and started kissing him.

Since Dean was less frantic than earlier, we were able to go slower and devote ourselves to caressing and arousing each other.  We exchanged a series of increasingly ardent kisses before letting our hands and lips roam over the other’s skin.  By the time my fingers ended up buried in his ass, however, he was keening and begging for more.  I pulled my fingers out, pushed his legs up, and buried myself in his slick depths.

We both groaned appreciatively when I bottomed out, with his taut passage flexing around my cock.  He wrapped his legs around my torso, and I ran my hands down his thighs to grasp his waist.  I snapped my hips forward, plunging into him at an energetic pace.  His eyelids dropped to half-mast, his fingers tightened on the sheets, and his voice cried out throatily each time my strokes brushed against his prostate.

As it hadn’t been that long since our first round of sex, it was a while before either of us came.  He reached his peak first, ejaculating with a sudden shout, and I followed moments later.  I then pushed his legs up higher, bending him nearly in half, and kept thrusting vigorously.  He braced his hands against my chest and urged me on with breathy moans and gasped endearments.  We moved together for some time, and I relished the passion, delight, and affection radiating from him. 

When we eventually climaxed again, I fed enough to keep my energy up, thinking that this might also help to reduce the strength of his heat.  We collapsed panting onto the mattress, and I reached over for the damp washcloth to clean us both up.  After tossing it to the floor, we curled up around each other and fell asleep.

The sun was shining brightly when I woke up again a few hours later to Dean enthusiastically giving me head.  His plush lips looked _amazing_ wrapped around my cock, but I didn’t say anything, guessing that his memories of similar comments were less than pleasant.  Instead I ran my fingers through his sandy hair and gently thrust into his mouth.  He glanced up at me with a smile in his golden eyes before returning to sucking and licking at my shaft.  My control wasn’t at its best so soon after waking, so he was able to bring me to the brink of orgasm within a couple of minutes.

Before I could cum, he pushed me onto my back, climbed onto my pelvis, and hurriedly sank down on my member.  As soon as his snug heat enveloped me, I bucked up and ejaculated with a loud shout.  He sighed in pleasure and sat still for a moment, merely squeezing his inner walls around me.  I placed my hands on his hips as he rocked them back and forth several times and ran them up his sides as he began rising and lowering himself on my cock.  He caught his lower lip between his teeth and toyed with his nipples while moving over me, moaning wantonly whenever his prostate was stimulated.

The sight of the omega pleasuring himself so eagerly stirred me, and I tightened my grip with a growl and started to drive up into him forcefully.  He fell forward with a surprised shout and braced his hands on my chest before pushing back against my shaft.  He was soon riding my thrusts eagerly, slamming himself up and down and crying out with increasing volume as he chased his culmination.  He abruptly stiffened, his channel clenching around me, before collapsing with a satiated groan.  I rolled us over and pounded into him a handful of times more before spending myself as well.

As I laid back down next to him, he reached up to give me a tender kiss.  “Thanks, Sammy.  I gotta say, this has been pretty damn awesome so far.  It ain’t that long ago that I thought this could never happen—having my heat and actually _enjoying_ it.  I spent so long being terrified of this shit, but now all I feel is _happy_.”

“Well, you certainly had reasons for your fears before,” I replied.  “I’m glad we were able to work through them though.  From what I’ve heard, sharing a heat is supposed to be something special.  To see you taking such pleasure in it now, especially after what you endured—I can’t tell you how pleased I am.”

“Let’s not get too sappy, man!  We still got several more days to go, and if the schmoop level keeps rising, we’re gonna get diabeetus!” he said with an impish grin.

“Jerk!” I accused fondly.  “Alright, before we go any farther, I want to get us something to eat and drink.  You’ll be okay by yourself for a few minutes, right?”

“Stop being such a worrywart, bitch!  I’m horny, not sick.  Just gimme that plug and I’ll be fine ‘til you get back,” he insisted.

I carefully pulled out and handed him the toy, then fished the other washcloth out of the basin and swabbed both of us clean.  After going to the bathroom to dump the water out and toss the soiled washcloths in a laundry hamper, I threw on a robe, ran my hands through my hair in a hasty attempt to tame it, and went to the kitchen.

Bobby was sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, a large pair of headphones over his ears.  He looked up and took them off when I moved into his line-of-sight.  “Morning, Sam.  How’s Dean?”

“He’s doing really well!  He’s still in control of himself, and he seems to be . . . umm, pleased with how things are going,” I replied.  “I came out here to get some breakfast for the both of us.”

“I figured you’d both be hungry after your _activities_ , so I whipped up some eggs, sausage, and toast a little while ago.  Put ‘em in there to keep warm.”  He gestured towards the toaster oven with his mug.  “I wasn’t sure how long it was gonna be before you decided to take a breather.

“Glad to hear Dean’s handling this alright,” he continued.  “Frankly, after what that bastard put him through, after watching the boy avoid anything to do with his heats for so long, seeing him taking all this so well now . . . it’s practically a miracle!  I still don’t like the circumstances that brought you together, and I probably never will, but I can’t deny how much he’s improved since being with you.”

I paused in the middle of transferring the food to a couple of plates.  “I can’t take most of the credit for what’s happened.  Dean’s a lot stronger than most people realize.  If he hadn’t been willing to let me in, to give me his trust despite the mistakes I made, we wouldn’t be here now.  And he’s made _my_ life better in so many ways—I can’t imagine it without him anymore.  I often wish we’d met in some other way too, but I’m so grateful to have him with me.”

“Well, as long as you keep treating him the way you are now, I suppose you ain’t gonna hear too many complaints from me,” Bobby said gruffly, though his eyes were kind.  “Anyway, I also put some bottles of water and Gatorade in a small cooler with some ice and filled a bowl with power bars, crackers, fruit, and other snacks I found.  I figure you can put those in your room, and then you won’t need to leave as often.”

“Thanks, man—that’s a great idea!  We really do appreciate you coming here to help us out.  How long do you think you’ll be able to stay?” I asked as I finished loading up the plates.

“I asked a friend, another hunter, to watch over the salvage yard and the phone lines for a while.  Told him I had a family emergency and might be gone for a coupla weeks.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay until the restaurant reopening.  I wanna be there for Dean, and it don’t make much sense to leave here in a few days and then hafta come back for a third time,” he answered.

I smiled.  “Dean will be thrilled to have you here, and I’m certainly not going to kick you out after all _this_.  Trust me, I don’t want to be relegated to sleeping on the couch and eating my own cooking!”

The older man snorted.  “I reckon not!  And you don’t think my being here for that long will cause any more problems with those Security folk?”

I shook my head.  “If we were still trying to hide your presence, it could be an issue.  But I told Meg that you were planning to come back when I reported your first visit, and I’ll let her know you’re here once Dean’s heat has passed.  She may want to meet with you herself to confirm you’re not a threat though.  Will you be okay with that?”

“She’s a demon, right?  The idea of having a peaceful conversation with one still kinda boggles my mind.  Most hunters only run into demons once or twice in their lives, but those are always the nastiest cases we ever hafta deal with.  But you’ve said you’re both friends with this Crowley fellow, and this Meg seems to be handling our situation in a sympathetic way.  I guess I just gotta get used to how different your community works from what I’m used to,” he said with a shrug.

“I’m glad you’re taking this so well—most people in your situation wouldn’t be,” I commented.  “I hope we haven’t been . . . err, _disturbing_ you too much this morning.”

“Between these headphones and the earplugs I put in before going to bed, I haven’t heard much of anything,” he assured me.  “Dean’s scent has gotten strong enough that even _I_ can smell it, but it ain’t affecting me the way I suppose it is with you.”

“There’s not much we can do about the smell—opening the windows isn’t a good idea with so many other people around.  But if the noise gets too bad, you can uh, knock on our door or something.  I should get back to Dean now,” I mentioned while piling the plates of food, two glasses of orange juice, and some takeout packets of butter, jam, salt, and pepper Dean had saved onto a serving tray.

Bobby nodded.  “You give me a holler if you need anything.  And when you want more than snacks, I’ll throw one of those frozen pizzas in the oven for lunch.”

I first carried the tray into the bedroom and then went back for the cooler of drinks and bowl of snacks.  There was no sign of the omega in the bedroom, but I could hear running water and singing coming from the bathroom.  I set the tray down on a small table in the sitting area and put the cooler and bowl in easy reach of the bed.

Dean came out of the bathroom still toweling off his hair.  “Is that sausage I smell?  I’m fucking _starving_ , dude!”

“It’s over in the sitting area,” I told him.  “Bobby also put together some drinks and munchies to keep in here, so that we don’t need to leave the bedroom as often.”

“Awesome!”  He spread his towel over a chair, sat down, and attacked his plate.

After quickly finishing our meal, I had just enough time to put the tray out in the hallway before Dean dragged me back to bed.  The next several hours were spent alternating between long bouts of sex and brief breaks to clean up, have a snack, or take a short nap.  The initial couplings each time were quite frenzied, but he’d eventually settle down enough to allow us to slow down a bit and actually make love.

For lunch, I brought the pizza Bobby had heated up for us back to our room, where Dean devoured half of it before pouncing on me again.  By the time dinner rolled around, he’d calmed down sufficiently to throw on some sweatpants and come out to the kitchen to eat and socialize for a little while.  The break periods had also been steadily lengthening over the course of the day, so I was hopeful that he’d be able to sleep for at least a few hours eventually.

A couple of hours after dinner found us watching _Casa Erotica 12_ , which featured a porn star known as Loki Anansi.  I was seated on the foot of the bed, and the omega was straddling my lap with his back to my chest.  He rode up and down on my cock in time with the gyrations on the screen, while I stroked his member and kissed along his neck.  The volume was turned down due to the truly atrocious dialogue, and we easily drowned it out with our panting and moaning.

We reached our climaxes right before the video ended, with my seed filling his slick channel and his spilling over my hand.  I licked my fingers clean and kissed him deeply, then tumbled us back until we were resting against the pillows at the other end of the bed.  He was purring languorously, his golden eyes heavy-lidded, and his inner walls quivered around my cock.  His powerful aroma permeated the room and kept me stiff despite how frequently I’d orgasmed in the past few hours.

I grabbed the remote and paused the DVD player.  “I’m glad you like these things, though I don’t know why they even bother to attempt to have a plot or lines!”

Dean grinned up at me.  “It ain’t like most people expect Oscar-winning performances from this shit, man!  I like this Loki dude’s work, even if he’s kinda scrawny to play an alpha.  Most of these types of pornos are too full of that, ‘Me alpha!  Me claim omega’s ass’ sorta bullshit, but his are usually better than that.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re a porn connoisseur?  I suppose I should glad you’re not impressed with this guy’s stature, or else I might have to be jealous,” I teased.

“You don’t hafta ever worry ‘bout competition, Sammy.  You’re it for me, ‘specially after this,” he assured me, pulling my head down for a brief but intense kiss.  “How are you holding up?  You’ve been working pretty hard today, even for an incubus.”

“But it’s been such delightful labor!  Don’t worry about me, Dee—I’m doing fine.  I’ve been feeding a little most times, which has been keeping my stamina up.  I also hope doing so might help lessen the severity of your heat,” I explained.

“Smart thinking there, dude!  I’m all for anything that’s gonna keep us away from Dr. Bitchy McBitchyface!” he said with a smirk.  “I’m still surprised at how good today has gone so far though.  It ain’t been anywhere close to as bad as what she told us or what I was afraid of.  I can see now why most people look forward to heat sex!”

“Well, don’t jinx us now!” I replied with a laugh.  “You think you can go to sleep now?”

He rolled on top of me.  “Sleep is for pussies!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends the first day of Dean's heat, and so far everything's going quite well. Including Bobby not being as mortified as during his first visit, since this time he came prepared! :D We'll have to see though if the rest of the heat continues as smoothly. I'm not necessarily going to go into detail for each remaining day, since I don't think I can handle writing THAT much smut at one time! So the next chapter or two will probably focus more on the highlights of what occurs.
> 
> I started rereading other omega!Dean stories this past week to try to get some inspiration to help kickstart my writing. Unfortunately, I ended up more pissed off than anything, because it reminded me of just how RAPEY so many A/B/O stories get. I find it rather distressing that not only do many authors set up dub-con or flat-out non-con situations where the omega is tricked or coerced into sex by the alpha, but also too many of the reactions after, both in the story by the characters and outside of it by the readers via their comments, make the dub-con or non-con seem okay and even "sexy." I'm sorry, but hormones, instincts, or whatever aren't valid excuses to manipulate or force someone into having sex! This is one of the reasons why consent is such a big issue in my story, because I don't want to be a part of this trend. GRR . . .
> 
> Anyhoo, I was fortunately able to finish this chapter a couple of days ago and thus post it on time today. I've started on the next one, and hopefully won't have such a hard time finishing it as the last. I've got a lot on my plate this week though--finishing up the radiation treatments, starting the process to go back to work, and dealing with some bad news from my parents--but I know you all will bear with me if the next update ends up late. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	34. Chapter 34

I startled awake and was momentarily disoriented, trying to determine what had disturbed me.  It had been fairly late into the night when we finally managed to fall asleep, and it seemed like only a couple of hours had passed since then.  Instead of being quietly sprawled in deep slumber, Dean was tossing and muttering incoherently at my side, radiating fear and anguish.  Before I could react, his distress spiked, and he began crying out in protest.

I caught hold of his shoulders and shook them gently.  “Wake up!  _Shh_ , baby, it’s alright.  You’re safe now—I’m here, and so is Bobby.  C’mon, wake up!”

He struggled briefly, then his golden eyes flew open.  “S—Sammy?  Oh, thank God!”

I wrapped my arms around him as he buried his face in my chest and held him close while he sniffled and trembled.  I rubbed his back soothingly and murmured endearments until he sighed and raised his head.  After he wiped his eyes with a corner of the sheet, I pressed a kiss to his temple and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, but I’ve figured out by now that repressing this crap ain’t doing me no favors,” he replied ruefully.  “I was remembering th—the attack.  Da— _John_ was whaling on me with that crowbar and shouting, wh—while Kyle bled out just a few feet away.  You w—woke me up before the _really_ bad shit started.”

“I’m so sorry, Dee.  Is that what your previous nightmares have been like?  Memories of that day?”  I ran a comforting hand through his hair.

“Usually, though sometimes it’s of the worst of the other shit he did to me or of the nastiest bastards he sold me to.”  He was silent for a moment, then burst out angrily, “Dammit, I thought I was fucking _over_ all this!”

“I’m not that surprised that this happened,” I admitted.  “You’ve improved so much since I’ve known you, but the trauma you survived . . . that isn’t something you can get over quickly or easily.  Given that this is your first heat since that terrible day, it’s not exactly unexpected for your subconscious to decide to freak out.”

“But nothing _bad_ happened today!  It ain’t _anything_ like what went down before!” he protested.

“I know, sweetheart.  But no matter how much you’ve enjoyed today, what you suffered all those years ago will still continue to affect you,” I explained patiently.  “And there’s only so much either of us can do about it.”

“This sucks, dude!  So now what—you want me to see a shrink?  I saw plenty of those douchebags the first time around, and they didn’t do a damn thing!” he said bitterly.

“It’s ultimately your call, but . . . I do think it would help.  You’re not the same person as back then—you’re stronger, more mature, and overall in a better place.  It also might be that you need to find the right therapist to talk to,” I pointed out.  “Think about it for a while, okay?  In the meantime, what can I do right now?”

Dean’s jaw set, and he lifted his chin to gaze at me defiantly.  “I don’t wanna let those sonsofbitches win, especially _him_.  I ain’t gonna let _his_ shit ruin what’s supposed to be a special time for the two of us.  The only memories I want from these next few days are _good_ ones!”  He then reached up and kissed me fiercely.

“I can certainly go along with that!” I replied when he let me up for air.

I smiled at him and ran my hands over his soft skin and the firm muscle underneath.  The omega was always such a bewitching mix of feminine and masculine, with his long-lashed eyes, smooth cheeks, and plush lips contrasting against his chiseled jaw and broad-shouldered frame.  Most alphas preferred their partners, whether beta or omega, to be petite and delicate, but I reveled as much in Dean’s strength as in his beauty.

He shifted onto his back and pulled my head down to capture my mouth.  He sighed happily as his tongue tangled with mine and his hands tugged on my hair, while I caressed the lean planes of his chest and abdomen.  He let his legs fall open when my hand drifted to his groin, and I fondled his cock and balls for several moments before sliding my fingers down to his damp hole.  I pushed two fingers inside and rubbed them against the sensitive nub inside.

“Oh yeah, baby, that feels fucking _good_!” he moaned, pushing down against my hand.  “But I wanna feel your dick in me now!”

I removed my fingers and quickly positioned myself between his legs.  He grasped his thighs and lifted them up, baring his welcoming entrance for my enjoyment.  I brought the head of my member to his rim and slowly pressed forward, watching his lashes flutter and his cheeks flush as I sank into his heated depths.  I kept my strokes long and measured, angling them to brush against his prostate, and he rocked his hips up to meet them. 

We moved together at an unhurried pace, seeking to banish his nightmares and replace them with these moments of passion and tenderness.  After a while though, the needs of his body overtook those of his spirit, and he began to growl impatiently.  I sped up my thrusts until I was driving vigorously into his taut passage, and he pushed back against them just as enthusiastically.  He cried out each time I hit his pleasure spot, his inner walls flexing around my shaft.  It took only a couple more minutes before he shouted and shook through his climax, and I followed a moment later.

Without giving either of us time to catch our breath, I shoved his legs up until he was bent nearly in half and pounded into him even harder.  He swore and braced his hands against the headboard, while the bed creaked under us.  I gripped his hips tightly and hammered into his slick passage until he wailed his way through another orgasm.  I managed to surge into him a handful more times before spending myself with a loud groan.

I fell to the bed, our limbs still entwined, and looked him over anxiously.  “Sorry, man, I got carried away there.  Are you alright?”

“Fuck, dude, that was intense!  And totally _awesome_!”  Dean grinned at me tiredly.  “Relax, Sammy!  I may be an omega, but I ain’t a delicate flower.”

“This isn’t about your designation—you _know_ I don’t think you’re weak or any of that bullshit!” I retorted with a scowl.  “I’m worried that if I get too rough, it might . . . _remind_ you of the wrong things.”

“Chill out, Gigantor!  I _do_ know you ain’t like that, okay?  And compared to the hell I went through when I was a kid, this just now ain’t _rough_.”  He put his hand against the side of my face and gazed at me seriously.  “You don’t hafta worry ‘bout me _ever_ confusing you with any of those motherfuckers, Sam—you ain’t _anything_ like them.”

I hunched my shoulders and glanced down.  “I’m not as different as I’d like.  I know I never did anything as terrible as your father but still . . .  I bought you, controlled you, and . . . gods, that day I came _so_ close to _hurting_ you.  And while I’d never cheapen your feelings with talk of things like Stockholm syndrome, I can’t help but wonder sometimes . . .  Would you have let me in, let me touch you, if you hadn’t felt you were _obligated_ to—”

A strong hand grabbed my chin and yanked it up.  “Stop that shit right now!  I meant what I just said—you ain’t _anything_ like my shitty dad or the fuckers he pimped me out to.  Yeah, you were a royal dumbass for a long time, but you _meant_ well, and you did your best to fix your mistakes once you knew better.  Seeing you come at me like that—sure, it freaked me out at first, but I know you’d never _actually_ hurt me.  Plus don’t doubt my ability to kick your ass now since that fucking spell is gone!  If I didn’t like what we were doing, I’m perfectly capable of stopping you.

“As for that _obligation_ bullshit . . . Listen to me, Sam.  There mighta been something like that at first.  Not so much feeling like I _had_ to do anything ‘cause you owned me, but . . . more like going along with what you wanted to make you let down your guard.  Even then, I _enjoyed_ what we were doing—how you made me feel, how you cared ‘bout me.  And trust me, by the time we got past just watching each other jack off, I _wanted_ everything we were doing together, ‘cause I had feelings for you too.  So don’t worry that you _forced_ me into this relationship or some stupid crap like that, _capisce_?”  He finished with an almost angry kiss.

“Okay, okay, I get it!  I don’t want you beating me up for saying anything else idiotic!” I replied with a smile.

“Good, ‘cause you were seriously harshing my buzz there, dude!”  He yawned and settled back against the pillows.  “Now let’s get cleaned up and go back to sleep.”

The next day started out well enough.  We managed to get nearly five hours of sleep before Dean’s arousal grew too strong, then spent a couple of enjoyable hours making sure his need was thoroughly satisfied.  After a long shower—and shower sex, of course—we threw on our robes and joined Bobby for breakfast.  While the hunter’s cooking skills weren’t on par with his foster son’s, his skillet hash was tasty and filling. 

Once we’d eaten, we returned to our bedroom and spent the rest of the morning much like the previous day, with extended rounds of lovemaking broken up by brief periods of rest and refueling.  For lunch, Bobby put together thick, almost Scooby Doo-esque sandwiches, which we ate while watching some silly telenovela that apparently both Dean and Bobby were hooked on.  We then retired to our room again to pick up where we’d left off.

We were catching our breaths after Dean had ridden me quite energetically when I heard irate voices coming from the direction of the main living area.  I quickly sat up and cocked my head, listening to try to determine who was out there.

Dean looked up at me in concern.  “What’s the matter, Sam?”

“I can hear voices over there, and they sound pissed off,” I replied, gesturing towards the other side of the apartment.  “I’m going to see if Bobby needs help dealing with whatever this is.”

“Gimme a sec to put something on, and I’ll come with you.”  He started to toss the covers on the bed aside.

“No, Dean, you should stay here.  If someone’s shown up to cause trouble, then they’re most likely here because of you.  It’ll be easier to get rid of them if who they want isn’t within reach,” I told him.  “Plus we don’t know if the heat has messed with your reflexes or anything else.  It’s not worth the risk.”

He scowled.  “Fine, but you better fucking holler if it’s more than the two of you can handle.”

I got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, figuring I’d need something more substantial to wear than a robe.  I gave the omega a swift kiss and grabbed a golf club from my closet before hurrying out of the room.  As I made my way down the hallway, I caught the sharp scent of another alpha and growled, my fangs and claws extending as the bounds on my true form loosened.

To my surprise, I found Bobby squaring off against Lenore and Benny in the foyer.  The two vampires were snarling, fangs bared, while the hunter had his sawed-off shotgun trained on both of them.  Charlie was mostly hidden behind her wife, and I could see her trying to tug on the vampire’s arm.

I paused long enough to exert some control over my shape and put down the club before demanding, “What the _hell_ is going on here?”

“I caught these yahoos trying to break in just now.  They fanged out when they saw the welcoming committee,” Bobby responded without taking his eyes off the others.

“Like we told you, you fool, we _weren’t_ trying to break in!  The key Sam gave me a couple months ago wouldn’t work!” Lenore exclaimed.  “And we’re understandably upset to find an armed _hunter_ in his apartment!”

“Alright, everyone calm down!  No one is in any danger as long as we all act like civilized adults,” I said.  “Benny, didn’t I tell you that Bobby isn’t a threat?”

“You said you think he ain’t gonna cause problems for the community.  You didn’t say that he ain’t a threat to _you_ , chief,” Benny replied grimly.  “So you can imagine we were concerned to find him here like this, ‘specially with Dean not able to come to your defense right now.”

“Sam is perfectly safe with me!” Bobby snapped.  “We may still have our issues to work out, but I ain’t gonna hurt someone who’s been so good to Dean.  And Sam knows this, which is why they _both_ asked me to come back and watch over ‘em during Dean’s heat.  You mind telling us why the _hell_ you were trying to barge in at a time like this?”

“We were concerned about them, of course, since Sam didn’t mention to any of us that he was going out on heat leave.  I had to find out from that bitch Ruby that _this_ was the reason he’s been out since Thursday!  Since we hadn’t heard from either of them, we wanted to make sure they’re doing alright and to see if they needed anything,” Lenore explained.

“We even brought food from a couple of your favorite takeout places, since we didn’t know how much you had here!” Charlie piped up, holding a couple of plastic bags aloft.

Bobby snorted in amusement as the distinctive aroma of Chinese stir-fry wafted over, and he lowered the shotgun and propped it up against the small console table by the door.  Benny and Lenore relaxed and retracted their fangs once the weapon was put away.  Charlie pushed past them and gave me a quick hug before handing me the takeout bags.

“Why don’t you all come in and sit down?” I asked after quickly dropping the food off at the kitchen island and then returning.  “I’ve probably got a few minutes before I have to go back to Dean.”

As she came further into the apartment, Lenore inhaled deeply, and her expression changed.  “What _is_ that _amazing_ smell?  Is that Dean?  Can I—”

My hindbrain kicked into high gear as the other alpha reacted to the rich omega scent pervading the air.  My vision went red and I growled menacingly, fangs once again out.  She in turn stiffened, and her eyes began to flicker crimson and her lip to curl up to reveal her teeth.

“Whoa, dudes!  We don’t need to start World War III again!”  Charlie grabbed Lenore by the arms and steered her towards the door.  “I think you should wait for us in the car, babe, or browse the shops downstairs.  Two alphas in here is obviously one too many right now!”

It took me a couple minutes after Lenore left to rein in my instincts.  I then sat down and looked at my friends ruefully.  “I’m sorry about that, guys.  I know Lenore didn’t mean anything by that, but this heat must’ve let my inner caveman loose.  The stress of thinking someone was coming after Dean when I heard the angry voices over here didn’t help.  Anyways, please give her my apologies.”

Benny grinned smugly.  “I warned Big Sis that her coming here probably wasn’t a good idea, but she didn’t listen.  Now I get to rub the ‘I told you so’s in her face the whole drive home.”

“This sort of crap makes me _so_ glad I’m a beta.  I could _totally_ see the IQ points dropping in both of you!” Charlie commented.  “So how is Dean doing?  From what we heard, you both were pretty worried about how hard this heat would hit him.”

“He’s actually handling it quite well!  His temperature has been holding steady at around one-oh-three, and he hasn’t shown any symptoms of hyperthermia.  And he’s still _himself_ , which is what he was most worried about,” I replied with a smile.

“And the _exertion_ ain’t wearing you out none?” Benny asked with a lascivious smirk.

“If I were human, I’m sure I’d be having trouble keeping up.  But I am what I am.”  I shrugged deprecatingly.  “It might even be working in our favor.  I think my feeding on his excess energy is one of the reasons this heat hasn’t been as bad as we initially feared.”

Before I could continue, an impatient voice bellowed from the bedroom wing, “Quit yammering and get back here, bitch!”

I rolled my eyes.  “Looks like duty calls.”

“You _poor_ baby.  You have to have _loads_ of nookie with the man you’re bonkers about!  How will you _ever_ survive?” Charlie said sarcastically.

I grinned back at her.  “It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it!  Will you all be okay by yourselves?”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout us!  Now that that initial misunderstanding is cleared up, I’m sure me and your friends will get along just fine.  I suspect we’ll have _plenty_ to talk ‘bout.  Now scram before Dean drags you back by your Johnson!” Bobby replied with a shooing gesture.

I grabbed a few more bottles of water from the fridge before heading back to the bedroom.  I put all but two of the bottles into the cooler, which had been restocked this morning.  After placing the remaining ones on my nightstand, I climbed into bed.

Dean stretched and looked me over.  “So who was it?  Didn’t hear yelling or fighting, so I assume they weren’t a problem.”

“Lenore, Benny, and Charlie came by to check up on us.  Bobby thought they were breaking in because I forgot to give them new keys when we upgraded the locks, and they got upset when he pulled his shotgun on them.  But everything seems to be smoothed out now.  Benny and Charlie are still out there, talking with Bobby.  Lenore had to leave though—I couldn’t handle another alpha being here, not even her.”  I flushed a bit as I admitted this.

“It’s okay, Sammy.  Maybe it’s the hormones talking, but you being all primitive is kinda _hot_ right ‘bout now.  Though you need to _seriously_ grovel to Lenore next time you see her.  Now c’mere!” he ordered.

I sketched a mock salute.  “Yessir!  What would you like me to do, sir?”

“Huh!  Suck my dick, grunt—and no touching yourself!  You should know better than to keep a superior waiting!” he barked in his best drill-sergeant voice.

I grinned as I bent over his groin, pleased that he was playing along with this little game.  I knew much of his current lack of inhibitions was due to the heat, but I hoped that he’d still remain open to different possibilities once it passed.

For now though, I concentrated on swallowing his cock down to its root, causing him to moan appreciatively and arch his back.  I relaxed my throat as he started to thrust into my mouth, encouraging him by humming and swirling my tongue around his shaft.  He took up my invitation and pumped his hips faster, twining his fingers through my hair to hold my head in place.  I lapped and sucked as he drove his member over and over forcefully down my throat, enjoying the sensation of him using me for his pleasure.  He abruptly pulled back until only his glans rested in my mouth and groaned hoarsely while his salty cum spurted over my tongue.  I swallowed it all down and licked his member clean.

Dean gazed at me worriedly as I shifted to rest my head on the pillow beside him.  “Are you okay, man?  I’m sorry if I got too rough or something.”

I smiled and put my arms around him.  “Now it’s my turn to reassure you that I’m fine.  You know it’s not easy to hurt me, and there’s _very_ little that you could do in bed that would upset me.  In fact, I really _liked_ that just now.  I appreciate it just as much when you take charge and take what you want as when I’m the one in control.  So don’t be afraid to try something with me, okay?”

He returned my smile gratefully.  “Thanks, Sammy.  How ‘bout we give _this_ a shot then . . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few minor bumps in the road, but still overall another good day for the boys. It might be more dramatic to have bad things happen, but I think we can agree that Dean deserves to enjoy his first real heat . . .
> 
> My apologies that this update is a few days late, but I've still been having trouble with inspiration. I don't know if this is the result of mental fatigue from the cancer treatments, a simple case of writer's block, or a bit of burnout from working on the same story for so long, but my writing has slowed down significantly. I'll have to see how the next chapter goes, and if I continue to have issues, I might try taking a break or working on another story for a few days to see if that helps cleanse the mental palate, so to speak. I'm still deciding if I should devote another chapter to the heat or move on to the next part of the story . . .
> 
> Regardless, it's unfortunately highly unlikely that the next update will be ready by Monday, particularly since this is Labor Day weekend and we have plans for most of it. I will do my best to get it posted as soon as I can, but I don't know when that will be. I appreciate everyone's patience while I try to get everything back on track. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	35. Chapter 35

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident.  We continued to make love, switching between which one of us was “in charge” and enjoying ourselves thoroughly.  When we eventually emerged from our room in search of food, we found that Benny and Charlie were still there, chatting with Bobby in the living room.

“Well, here are the lovebirds now!” Benny commented.  “How are y’all doing now?”

“Pretty good, man, other than we’re fucking _starving_!” Dean replied as he made a beeline for the kitchen.  “Are you and Charlie staying for dinner?  Is Lenore still around?”

“She took an Uber home a couple hours ago, since she didn’t want to risk causing any more problems,” Charlie piped up.

I groaned in embarrassment.  “I feel like such an ass!  I owe Lenore a floral arrangement or an Edward Cullen voodoo doll, don’t I?”

“Don’t feel too bad, chief.  You alphas can’t help being less evolved than the rest of us, ‘specially when your mates are concerned,” Benny responded with a grin.  “If Charlie’s game, I don’t mind hanging out a bit longer.  I can pick up a blood pack from the café downstairs.”

 “If Dean’s cooking, you can bet your ass I’m staying!” Charlie said eagerly before joining the omega in the kitchen and giving him a big hug.  “I’m _so_ glad to see you’re okay!  Everyone was _so_ doom-and-gloom before about your heat, but you seem fine right now.”

“Between my personal crap and what the doc was warning us ‘bout, there _was_ a lotta shit that coulda gone wrong,” Dean acknowledged.  “He ain’t gonna admit it, but it’s really thanks to Sam that the past coupla days have gone so well.  He helped me work through the fucked-up mess in my head so I wouldn’t freak out, he found some drug out in Europe to reduce the symptoms, and his feeding is probably lessening the effects too.”

“Not to mention him being a big studly incubus has been keeping you more than _satisfied_ , judging by the sound effects we’ve been hearing all afternoon!” she pointed out and then cackled gleefully when we both turned bright red.

With Charlie’s help, Dean reheated the pot roast, mashed potatoes, and broccoli casserole and baked some frozen biscuits.  While Bobby helped them carry everything into the dining room and Benny went down to the café, I cracked open a bottle of wine to go with the meal.  Compliments about the food led to discussions about the upcoming restaurant launch and Dean’s role throughout the process.  He of course tried to downplay his contributions, but Bobby and I countered by talking him up as much as possible.

After dinner had been cleared away, Bobby retired to the library while the rest of us piled back into living room to watch _Dr. Who_.  Dean started out focused on trying to out-geek Charlie but became increasingly handsy as the show went on.  I finally had to pause the DVD and drag him into the nearest bathroom, and we returned several minutes later to knowing smirks from our companions at our disheveled appearance.

Once the episode ended, Benny stood and stretched.  “We should head on home now.  I’m sure the two of you have more . . . _pressing_ matters to attend to tonight.  Lemme help you clean up before we go though.”

As I led him into the kitchen, I noticed Dean pulling Charlie aside and leaning in close.  While we rinsed dishes and loaded the dishwasher, the two humans whispered surreptitiously, Dean exuding embarrassment and Charlie first surprise and then excitement.  He handed her some cash and gave her a quick hug just as we finished up and then retreated to the bedroom wing with a flushed face, giving Benny a brief wave as he hurried away.

I saw our friends to the door before going back to our room.  As I undressed, I asked curiously, “So what was _that_ all about?”

“It’s a surprise.  You’ll find out tomorrow, dude.  Now c’mere!”  He beckoned imperiously from the bed, looking more composed.

He soon distracted me well enough to make me forget about this little mystery.  We romped together for a few more hours before finally falling asleep.  Our rest remained undisturbed by any bad dreams, much to both of our reliefs.

The next morning it was my turn to wake up my lover with a long, sloppy blowjob.  This was followed by a fairly extended round of energetic sex and then a short break to inhale the omelets and hash browns Bobby made for us.  We then enthusiastically returned to our previous activities and didn’t come up for air until well past noon.

Benny was waiting in the kitchen when hunger finally drove us to leave the bedroom.  He was sitting at the breakfast bar and gesturing as he described the shenanigans of some perp he and Len had arrested recently.  Bobby listened and nodded while preparing what looked to be Sloppy Joes.

“Hey, what are you doing back here again?  Did Lenore get sick of your teasing and kick you out?” I asked with a smirk.

“Nah, I’m here with a delivery.  Charlie couldn’t come over—something ‘bout her guild needing her for a big raid.  So she sent me here with a package for Dean.  She said to tell you that no one else knows ‘bout it and even made me pinky-swear not to look inside before giving it to you.”  Benny then handed Dean a nondescript paper bag.

Dean blushed furiously as he took it.  “Oh, uh . . . thanks, man.  I’ll . . . um, go put this away.  Be right back!”

“Huh!”  I exchanged a puzzled look with the other two men as the omega dashed back to the bedroom.  “I guess we’ll have to wait for Dean to tell us what’s going on.”

“Judging by the idjit’s reaction, I’m pretty sure this is the sorta thing I’m better off _not_ knowing ‘bout!” Bobby pointed out.  “Ignorance is bliss and all that.”

I bit my tongue and refrained from asking any questions when Dean returned, even though I was _dying_ from curiosity at this point.  His face was still a bit pink as he took a seat on the stool next to me.  We waited a couple minutes more until Bobby finished making the sandwiches.

“You planning to stick around for a while?” Dean asked after demolishing half of his meal.

“Yeah, I was thinking ‘bout hanging ‘round here ‘til my shift starts this evening, if you don’t mind,” Benny answered.  “Figure Bobby could use the company while you both are otherwise _occupied_ , and a little extra muscle ‘round here wouldn’t go amiss, just in case.”

“We . . . uh, we appreciate the help, man,” I said a bit distractedly, watching Dean scarf down the rest of his sandwich and scamper off.

I finished mine at a more sedate pace and then helped Bobby with the dishes, assuming that Dean needed some time alone to prepare . . . whatever it was.  When I got back to our room, the bathroom door was closed and locked.  I shrugged, undressed, and settled on the bed to wait.

Dean came out a few minutes later, wrapped in his green silk robe and looking nervous.  “Hey Sam!  Uh . . . you know how we talked ‘bout trying new shit yesterday?  Well . . . um, this ain’t exactly new, at least not for me, but . . .”

“Calm down, baby.  Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” I interjected soothingly.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then met my eyes.  “Remember my friend Rhonda from high school that I mentioned a while back?  She was one of my closest friends back then.  She was an alpha, one of the good ones like you, who never treated me different ‘cause I’m an omega.  She was awesome—funny, smart, brave, and really _hot_.  If I hadn’t been so fucked up, maybe she and I woulda . . .

“Anyways, one day I was over her place when she was getting ready for a date and trying to decide what to wear.  Suddenly she turned to me with this tiny pink satin thing from her underwear drawer and . . . I dunno how, but she got me to try it on.  She said it looked good on me, and . . . I—I kinda liked it too—how it looked, how it felt . . .

“I never tried anything like that since, and I never told anyone else.  I mean, it’s fucking hard enough to get people to take us seriously, so no way in hell was I gonna give all those asshats another reason to look down on me.  But I know _you_ ain’t like that, and you already know my other deep, dark secrets, so . . .”  He blushed again and glanced down, his fingers fiddling with the belt of his robe.

I sat up and gazed at him sincerely.  “Then I’m glad that you’re willing to share this with me.  But if you’re not comfortable with it, you don’t have to—”

“No, no, I’m . . . I’m okay.  Just . . . don’t fucking laugh, alright?”  He visibly steeled himself before opening and dropping the robe.

I stared silently in awe.  Dean was now clad only in a pair of delicate sapphire-blue panties.  The front panel was made entirely of embroidered lace in a floral design, with small white pearls sewn onto the satin waistband, flanking a tiny bow in the center.  As I shakily got to my feet and slowly circled him, I could see that the sides and back consisted of sheer mesh edged in scalloped lace.  There was a diamond-shaped cutout in the center of the back panel, with a string of the same white pearls stretching from another petite bow on the waistband and plunging almost to the cleft of his firm ass.

I was completely stunned.  The deep blue color contrasted remarkably well against his fair complexion, while the creamy pearls were only a few shades lighter than his smooth skin.  The panties sat low on his narrow hips, the lace straining in the front over his large cock and heavy balls and the mesh arcing up in the back to reveal his rounded buttocks.  The juxtaposition of the dainty undergarment with his lean muscles further emphasized the graceful blend of soft and hard, of fragility and strength that comprised his person.  In short, he was simply _gorgeous_.

He fidgeted anxiously at my apparent lack of response.  “This was a goddamn _stupid_ idea!  I look fucking ridicu—”

I growled and caught his face in my hands.  “Stop that!  You look _incredible_ , Dee!  You are the most beautiful person I’ve _ever_ known, and never doubt that!  How you look now . . . it makes me want to grab you and pound you into a wall!”  I finished with a fierce kiss.

“Huh!  That . . . uh, that don’t sound like a bad idea there, Sammy!”  Dean gave me a slow grin as his confidence returned and curled his arms around my neck.

I growled and seized his lips again, while my hands dropped to his hips to hoist him up.  He wrapped his legs around my waist as I shoved him against one of the giant windows that made up the back wall.  I braced one hand against the thick glass panel and slid the other down to his groin.  I ran my fingers along his lace-covered shaft and sac and then discovered the slit in the crotch of the panties.  He whined deep in his throat as I immediately pushed two fingers into his moist entrance.

“C’mon, dude, don’t tease!  Fucking _fuck_ me, dammit!” he panted after a few moments of my fingers slipping in and out without _quite_ reaching his prostate.

I grinned down at him wickedly.  “If you insist, sweetheart!  You’d better hold on tight!”

The omega strengthened his grip on my shoulders and waist while I pulled my fingers out and moved my hand back to his hip.  I guided him down until his hot passage enveloped my cock and started thrusting forcefully, the supple edges of the fabric brushing against my skin.  He groaned as he was repeatedly driven back against the window and angled his pelvis so that his sweet spot was hit with nearly every stroke.  I grunted and pounded into him harder, feeling his fingers dig into my back and his inner walls flex around my member.

“You like that, baby?  You want more?” I crooned in his ear before nipping at the lobe.

He tilted his head to one side to give me easier access.  “ _Ahh!_   Fuck yeah, Sammy!  Want . . . _ahh_ , want more of your cock!”

My lips wandered down to just above his collar and sucked a mark there while I continued to hammer vigorously into his tight channel.  He began to cry out as his passion rose and then stiffened as it crested, his inner muscles clenching around my cock and his cum soaking the lace of his panties.  I fed off the wave of his pleasure and plunged into him a few more times before ejaculating within his depths.

I carefully lifted Dean away from the window as he slumped against me and carried him over to the bed, where I settled against the pillows mounded at the headboard.  He showed no inclination to move off and instead sprawled languidly on top of me, his head resting on my shoulder and his passage trembling faintly around my cock.  I ran my hands down his back and caressed the soft material over his ass.

“Guess now I know what you and Charlie were conspiring about last night,” I commented with a smile.

“Yeah, I wanted to try this before my heat ended, in case I didn’t have the balls later.  Since I can’t exactly go anywhere right now, and ordering online would take too long, I asked her to pick something out for me.  Though this is probably fancier that what I woulda gotten myself.”  He looked up almost shyly through his long lashes.  “So you like it?”

I kissed him fervently.  “Oh gods, yes!  These panties look absolutely _amazing_ on you!  More importantly, how do _you_ feel about them?  Do they make you feel good?  Would . . . would you want to get more?”

He thought for a long moment before answering.  “I . . . yeah, I guess I do.  Regular dude underwear is okay, it gets the job done.  These though, they make me feel good while I’m wearing ‘em—and not just ‘cause _you_ think they’re sexy.  _I_ feel sexy in ‘em, and I like how they feel against my skin.”

He paused and shrugged.  “I dunno ‘bout getting more though.  Maybe a coupla more pairs to wear at night for you, sure.  But more than that . . .  It’s already hard enough to get taken seriously as an omega, man—too many stupid sonsofbitches already think I’m weak and shit ‘cause of that.  I start wearing ladies’ panties, and some assmunch finds out, then—”

“This isn’t about your designation.  There are plenty of betas and even alphas who enjoy wearing women’s underwear or women’s clothes.  Many are even straight, so it’s not an orientation thing either.  It’s simply a fetish, and there’s nothing wrong with it,” I explained.  “So if _you_ want to wear them, then just do it!  Who _cares_ what some random person might think?  Anyone who doesn’t realize you’re awesome is a total dumbass, dude!”

“Maybe you’re right, Sammy.  I’d still feel weird shopping in fucking Victoria’s Secret for myself though,” he admitted.

“There are websites that sell panties specifically for guys.  Those might even be more comfortable, since they’re designed to accommodate the male anatomy,” I pointed out.  “Have you ever been to one of those stores that cater to male omegas?”

Dean shook his head.  “Most of those places are pretty high-end, and before being with you, my budget only stretched to thrift stores and Walmart.  I’ve checked out a coupla their websites outta curiosity though.  I suppose those sorta stores would also have dude panties, and a city this big must have one or two stores at least.  I’ll hafta consider it.”

“Have you ever thought about the other clothing there?  I’ve heard they carry fashions that are somewhere in-between women’s styles and menswear,” I added.

“I’ve seen that stuff before—looks very soft and pretty but still practical.  But those clothes are meant to look good on those waif-type omegas who work as models, not on big guys like me.  Besides, I _like_ my jeans and my t-shirts.  So I’m fine with what I got,” he replied.

“As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters.”  I rubbed his back gently and listened to his content purr.  “Did you keep in touch with her?  Rhonda, I mean.”

“For a little while after we graduated, even after she went to college.  I didn’t have the money for it, and no school would ‘waste’ financial aid on an omega.  We still talked on the phone, sent emails, and visited when we were both back home for a coupla years.  But then she got too busy going after her business degree, and . . . and eventually I figured she had better things to do with her time than waste it on a loser like me, so . . .”  He shrugged self-deprecatingly.

“ _Dean_ . . .”

He waved a hand dismissively.  “Yeah, yeah, I know—I shouldn’t talk ‘bout myself like that.”

“I’m serious, dude!  Don’t _think_ about yourself like that either.  You weren’t a loser then, and you’re certainly not one now!”  I caught hold of his chin and gazed earnestly into his wide eyes.  “Do you believe that?”

“I’m starting to, Sammy—thanks to you.”  He slid a hand through my hair to cup the back of my head and gave me a deep kiss.

“Your eyes aren’t solid gold anymore.  I can see flecks of green showing through,” I murmured before kissing him ardently in return.

“Maybe that means this heat will be over soon.  But for right now, I think we’ve rested plenty, _and_ I just got a fresh dose of your spit.  So how ‘bout you . . . _examine_ these panties up close?”  With that, Dean rolled onto his back and pushed my head down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Sorry I've been MIA these past several weeks, but as I explained in the notes and comments on the chapter before, I started suffering from burnout while trying to write those previous few chapters. So rather than continue to stress myself out and possibly have the quality of my writing be affected, I decided to take a short break. I didn't write at all for close to a week and then played around with another story for a couple of weeks as a change of pace. Then when my muse was feeling refreshed, I picked this story up again and banged out three new chapters, the first of which is now posted. I hope to be able to resume my usual weekly posting schedule until this fic is finished.
> 
> All hail Rhonda Hurley for introducing us to Dean's panty fetish! Since this is the last chapter dealing with his heat, I wanted to include something fun, and naturally I thought of this. Those of you familiar with my The Monster That You Know series know that this isn't the first time we've enjoyed Dean in pretty little panties, and it certainly won't be the last! :D It's always amusing to see how embarrassed poor Dean is at first, and while Sam here didn't go full caveman like in the other series, I hope his reaction is still entertaining. As for the panties themselves, you can look in The Panty Guide on Victoria's Secret's website to find the inspirations for the pair Dean wore here. And yes, panties for men is a real thing.
> 
> You may have noticed that I've added a final chapter count with this update. The story isn't finished yet on my end, so that number may change by ±1 chapter or so before I'm done. But we are approaching the end of the story, with just a couple major plot points to go. I hope everyone has enjoyed the ride so far and will like how it ends. :)
> 
> I'm starting a new job in a week or two, but that shouldn't affect the rate of updates too much (I hope). The next chapter should go up next Monday afternoon or evening as per my previous posting schedule. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer.


	36. Chapter 36

I woke up to an empty bed and no sign of anyone else in the room.  After showering and dressing for work, I came into the kitchen and found Dean, also dressed and putting the finishing touches on breakfast.  He’d gone all out, putting together a far more elaborate meal than his norm on a workday: eggs Benedict, crepes stuffed with strawberries and sweetened cream cheese, and bacon quiche Lorraine.

“Dude, this is quite a spread!  How long have you been up?” I asked as he set a full plate in front of me.

He shrugged while taking a seat beside me.  “Dunno, a few hours I guess.  Couldn’t really sleep well last night.”

“Excited about the big day?”

“More like scared _shitless_ , man!  What if people hate the food?  Ellen put so much work into the renovations, but that ain’t gonna mean _squat_ if no one likes the fucking menu,” he replied miserably.

I once again cursed both his jackass father and the institutionalized oppression of omegas for smothering this wonderful, talented man’s self-esteem.  “Stop worrying so much, Dee.  _Everyone_ who’s tried your cooking loves it, remember?  The reopening is going to be a _huge_ success, and that will in large part be due to _you_!”

Dean’s heat had ended up lasting a total of four days, and we both stayed home for a fifth day to rest.  Since then, he’d thrown himself wholeheartedly into the remaining preparations for the restaurant launch less than two weeks away.  This included finalizing shift schedules for the kitchen, training his staff on the recipes, and ordering any remaining supplies.  This was the first time I’d seen him succumb to his nerves in a while though.

“I hope you’re right, Sammy.  I don’t wanna let Ellen and the others down,” he said.

I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “You’re going to do _great_ , baby.  I think half my firm alone is planning to go there this weekend!”

Dean had been bringing meals home for the past week, after training his employees each day on various dishes.  I’d then taken samples to work and left them out in the lunch rooms, along with flyers for the restaurant.  I fielded loads of questions and heard from multiple coworkers that they planned to attend the reopening.  In addition, I’d left flyers at several businesses nearby, including the café and bookstore downstairs.

I finished eating and put my plate in the sink, then grabbed my lunch sack and wrapped an arm around his waist.  “I’ve got to get going.  You’re heading over at your usual time, right?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, there’s a lot to get ready even with the later start, so it’s still all hands on deck today.”

Harvelle’s new hours were from eleven in the morning to eleven at night, with the bar section staying open a couple hours longer.  For today’s grand inauguration, however, the doors wouldn’t open until six this evening for the dinner crowd.  To ensure everything went smoothly though, even staff from earlier shifts were putting in time to help with the preparations.

“I should be over a little after six.  You'll do awesome tonight!”  I gave him an encouraging kiss and left.

The day passed pretty quickly.  A few people stopped by my office at various times to inquire about the opening.  When five-thirty rolled around, several of us piled into cars and made our way to the restaurant.  I stopped by the apartment first to pick up Bobby before heading over.

This was my first time seeing Harvelle’s in a number of weeks.  The exterior now boasted a brick façade, carved wooden double doors, an elegant metal sign above the doors, and a row of large picture windows.  Inside was a small wood-paneled lobby that had a marble-clad host station and leather benches for waiting customers, which were already packed.  The bar was to our left and the main dining room to our right. 

The drinking area was much smaller than before, with a long, wood and brass bar along the partition wall and the rest of the floor filled with square high top tables and stools, except in the back where there were still a couple of pool tables and a dart board.  Most of the tables were already occupied, with even more people lined up at the counter.  Eli, one of Benny’s nest mates—who they both swore weren’t related despite the uncanny resemblance—was dispensing drinks while a couple of servers moved around the tables.

Like most restaurants in the community, the dining area was divided into two rooms—one for the general public and one for members.  From the lobby, we could see into the larger public dining room.  Spacious booths lined the walls, while square and rectangular tables were arranged around the large stone planter in the center of the room.  From what I understood, the other dining room was set up in a similar fashion.  As in the bar area, the dining rooms were already fairly busy despite the restaurant having been open for less than an hour, with diners seated at most of the tables and servers bustling around to take care of them.

The restaurant was decorated similarly to the original bar in what Ash had dubbed a “hunter-chic” aesthetic.  Replicas of antique and exotic weapons, stylized depictions of wards and other occult symbols, and representations of supernatural creatures in various media—drawings, paintings, masks, statuettes, and more—were displayed on the walls, the plinths at the ends of the booth dividers, and even on the servers’ uniforms, while the planters were filled with herbs and shrubs known to have protective or healing properties.  Fine materials were evident throughout the décor, from the polished hardwood of the floors, paneling, and furniture and the gleaming brass of the light fixtures and hardware to the smooth leather upholstery of the benches and chairs and the soft linens of the tablecloths and napkins.

Jo smiled at us brightly from the host station, looking elegant in a black cocktail dress and upswept hairdo.  “Hey there, Sam, Bobby!  Good to see you tonight!  We’ve got your table ready for you.”

“The place sure is hopping,” Bobby commented.  “Your momma must be thrilled!”

“We _all_ are, especially after how much work Mom put into this place.  I have to admit, I put up flyers all over my school and gave samples of the food to my friends, some of whose parents put up the flyers at their businesses.  A lot of the staff has been doing what they can to spread word of mouth,” she said.

“I’ve done the same at my firm and some of the shops in my area,” I added.  “The wife of one of my co-workers told me she even dropped a word to people she knows who write for the food sections of local newspapers and magazines, and she thinks a couple of them may stop by tonight.”

“Wow, that would be _great_ if they do!  Let me take you back.  Is the rest of your party coming soon?”  Jo grabbed several menus and began leading us through the main dining room.

“They should be here shortly.  Lenore left at the same time I did to go home and get Charlie and Benny,” I replied as we followed her into the smaller members-only room.

She brought us to a table near the fragrant planter and handed out the menus after we were seated.  “Your server tonight will be Marlene.  I’ll let Mom and of course Dean know that you’re here.”

She left with a wave, and I took a look around the room.  I recognized several people from work and our apartment building, as well as other friends.  Crowley was seated at nearby table with Rowena and two young witches who worked at her shop, Jamie and Jennie Plum.  Jack Montgomery and his wife Michelle were sharing a booth with David Lassiter and his sister Margo.  I smiled to see Meg and Ruby sitting and talking together quite amiably, while Garth and several members of his pack had invited Kate and her sister Tasha to join them at their large table.

Marlene, a vetala who’d worked for Ellen for years, came up to our table a few minutes later.  “Glad to see you here tonight, Sam!  Hope you’re excited as we are!  Who’s your friend?”

“Hi Marlene.  This is Bobby, Dean’s foster father.  He’s been visiting with us for a couple weeks,” I explained.

“Oh yeah, Dean and Ellen have both talked about him.  Nice to meet you, sir.  Any family of Dean’s is good in my books.  And the boss lady seems to think pretty highly of you too.”  She pulled her order pad out of her apron pocket.  “So can I start you off with something to drink?”

I grinned as Bobby’s face turned pink at the mention of Ellen.  Dean and I had arranged for the Harvelles to visit our place a few days after we’d recovered from the heat so that they and Bobby could catch up.  Ever since, the old hunter looked for any excuse to call or visit the restaurant and yet seemed oddly flustered whenever Ellen was brought up.  Both Dean and I of course were highly amused.

“Shuddup, ya idjit!” Bobby growled, and then glanced up at Marlene.  “A coupla El Sols will be fine, miss.”

“Alright.  I’ll bring those and then give you some time to look over the menu and for the rest of your party to join you.”  She put her pad away and left.

Lenore, Benny, and Charlie arrived at the same time as our drinks, and they asked for a Bloody Mary, another El Sol, and a Sex on the Beach respectively.  Marlene brought the additional drinks fairly quickly and then left again to allow us to review the menus.

Charlie looked around the dining room excitedly.  “I _love_ that Ellen kept the hunter theme from before and snazzed everything up!  And this place is _already_ bursting at the seams—there are people with no reservations waiting outside ‘cause the lobby is overflowing.  How nervous was Dean earlier?”

“From what Sam told me, he was doubting himself as usual this morning.  Sam did his best to encourage him, and I’m sure Ellen smacked some sense into him too when he got here,” Bobby answered.  “But the _real_ proof in the pudding will be how well tonight goes.  _Then_ maybe the boy will finally believe he can do this.”

“Well, with how hard Dean and everyone else has been working, I have no doubt tonight will be a _spectacular_ success,” Lenore said firmly.

When Marlene returned, we first requested oysters Rockefeller with shallots, garlic, and grated Romano cheese and fried dill pickle chips with Sriracha mayo sauce for the table.  Bobby chose no-bean chili slow-cooked with brisket, bacon, beer, and dark chocolate, meatloaf with balsamic mushroom sauce, maple spiced baked beans, and jalapeno cheddar cornbread.  Charlie went with a Caesar salad with sliced hardboiled eggs, red onion, and ciabatta croutons, baked three-cheese macaroni with leeks and sundried tomatoes, roasted broccoli with sliced almonds, garlic, and lemon zest, and tater tots with shallots, chives, and smoked paprika.  I ordered a tossed Cobb salad with fennel, red onion, and crispy chicken skin in a warm bacon-mustard vinaigrette, grilled salmon glazed with honey, butter, lemon, garlic, and cilantro, roasted corn with smoky lime butter, and wild rice with porcini and cremini mushrooms.  The two vampires were restricted to warmed glasses of A-positive, though Benny got his seasoned with Cajun spices and Lenore hers flavored with a port wine reduction.

While we waited for our meals, we caught up with one another, since I hadn’t seen Benny or Charlie in nearly two weeks.  Crowley joined us at one point for a few minutes, claiming he needed a break from the coven politicking going on at his table.  I later wandered over to see how Kate and Tasha were getting on with Garth’s family, since I knew the two girls had been in search of a new pack since moving to the city.  I returned to my seat just as our main courses were served.

A few minutes after we’d started eating, Dean emerged from the kitchen and walked over to our table.  “Hey guys!  I’m taking a quick break to see how you’re doing.  Ellen thinks it’s a good idea to come out and talk to some of the guests, and of course I wanna see you all specifically.”

I smiled and reached a hand out to him, pleased that he didn’t appear nervous or stressed.  “Everything’s been _incredible_ so far, man.  The restaurant looks amazing, and I’m thrilled to see how busy it is already.  And the food is spectacular, as always.  How are things going in the back of the house?”

He beamed and wrapped his fingers around mine.  “Everything’s _awesome_ , Sammy!  The whole crew’s been busting their asses all day to get ready before the doors opened, and now everything’s working like a well-oiled machine.  Even the coupla problems that popped up got dealt with quick and easy.  We got a _great_ goddamn group back there!”

“Who have a _kickass_ leader guiding them!”  Charlie got up to give him an enthusiastic hug before sitting again.  “We’re seriously stoked to be here tonight, dude, and see you _rocking_ it with your food.  This mac ‘n cheese is totally amazeballs!”

“Benny and I certainly appreciate having more options on the menu,” Lenore added.  “It means a lot that you took those of us with more . . . _limited_ diets into account as well.”

Dean shrugged modestly.  “It didn’t feel right to expect folks like you to come out here and pay good money to just get someone popping a blood pack into the fucking microwave—especially since the packs are coming from _your_ blood bank!  I’m glad you like what we came up with.  Cooking for so many different kinda people is an _interesting_ experience, I gotta say.”

“Your community sure does take some getting used to.  But I can’t tell you how _good_ it feels to see you fitting in here so well, son,” Bobby observed.  “The food ain’t half-bad either!”

“I’ll make sure to tell Ellen _that_ was the best you could come up with.”  Dean glanced over his shoulder.  “Speak of the devil . . .”

Ellen strode up, her demeanor both proud and anxious.  “Sorry to interrupt, Dean, but there’s a reporter here from one of the local rags, and she’d like to interview the head chef.  She’s in the main dining room, in the booth with the rakshasa statue.”

“ _Sonofabitch!_   She wants to talk to _me_?”  Dean flushed, his scent a bit distressed.  “Uh, do I look okay?”

“You always look spectacular, honey.  Now calm down and go kick it in the ass!”  Ellen turned to us after he hurried away.  “As for _you_ , you old coot, c’mere!”

I smirked once she’d dragged Bobby off.  “Ten bucks says she’s carrying him off to swap spit in her office.”

“That’s a sucker bet there, chief.”  Benny leaned back and then grimaced.  “I know werewolves are people too and all that happy horseshit, but watching ‘em eat _ain’t_ for faint of heart!”

Charlie smacked his arm, and the rest of us laughed at his disgruntled expression.  There was some good-natured heckling several minutes later when Bobby returned, looking rather dumbfounded.  We continued to chat and enjoy our food until Marlene cleared away our plates and brought the dessert menus.  To no one’s surprise, the dessert offerings consisted almost entirely of different varieties of pie.  Bobby picked strawberry-rhubarb, Charlie ordered Key lime, and I opted for apple pie a la mode.  Benny asked for a glass of scotch, while Lenore limited herself to a cappuccino since she was driving.

After the server departed, I frowned when I noticed an unwelcome face being seated at the other end of the room.  “Excuse me for a few minutes.  There’s a potential problem I have to go check out.”

Benny glanced in the same direction and raised his brows.  “Well, _shit_!  D’ya think you’ll need backup?”

“I should be okay, as long as _he_ doesn’t try to start any trouble.  Even if he does, I trust Ellen is more than capable of throwing him out on his ass,” I replied as I stood up.

“Alright, but you holler if you need us.”

I nodded and stalked over to the other table.  “What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Alastair offered his unsettling smile.  “Hello there, Sam.  Fancy meeting _you_ here!  This is a free city—at least if you’re a _true_ member of our lovely community.  I have just as much right to come to this restaurant as any of these other fine diners.”

“Cut the crap, Alastair.  You’ve never been to Harvelle’s before in all the years it’s been open.  So what’s your angle now?” I demanded.

“I’m simply here to satisfy my curiosity,” he answered amiably.  “Heard a rumor you’d let your _bitch_ off its leash. . . . even allowed it to have delusions of being a _real_ person.  I want to see for myself how well your little _experiment_ is going, that’s all.  And maybe get the chance to lay my eyes on the pretty young thing in person, as it were, since I have yet to have the _pleasure_.”

I growled angrily.  “You stay _away_ from him, you bastard!  If you try to lay one _finger_ on him—”

“Calm down, Sammy!  Your prized pet is perfectly safe . . . _here_.  I wouldn’t dream of causing a scene in front of _all_ these good, upstanding people and disturbing their meals.  Surely you don’t take me for some kind of fool now?”  He met my eyes to make sure I got his meaning. 

I gritted my teeth at the veiled threat.  “Don’t you have better things to do—such as investigating the complaints I filed against the Food Market?”

“Why would I waste precious resources on such petty charges?  The Market provides vital and essential services to our community, after all.  One _minor_ infraction is hardly grounds to disrupt their activities with an investigation, particularly when we have more _valuable_ uses for our time.”  He smirked as I glared at him.

“Now, I _was_ troubled to hear that despite our earlier conversation, you’ve allowed a _hunter_ to enter our city and roam about unchecked.  And seeing as the man is _right_ over there, you can’t deny the allegations _this_ time.  I thought you were smarter than this, boy,” the demon sneered.

I took a deep breath to get myself under control, though the other alpha’s harsh scent made my nostrils flare.  “And _ye_ t you prove yourself a fool once again.  Things are never simply black or white, especially around here.  You’re in an establishment run by former hunters right now,” I pointed out.  “As I clearly stated in the report I gave several weeks ago—since _we_ don’t have anything to hide—Bobby Singer managed to find us entirely on his own, but Dean and I convinced him _not_ to go after the community.  He even agreed to have a geas laid on him to show he _isn’t_ a threat.  So if this is some poor attempt to intimida—”

“Is there a problem here, Sam?”

I turned to see Jo behind me, her face concerned and her stance alert.  “It’s fine, Jo.  This conversation is over anyway.  Though if you could do me a favor, please send a message to the kitchen to recommend that Dean may not want to come in here until the _trash_ is taken out.”

Alastair stiffened at the insult, but I walked away before he could respond.  Jo followed me while I went back to our table, where our desserts had shown up.

She waited until I resumed my seat before asking, “So who _was_ that guy?  A couple of the servers came up to me, since Mom is with Dean and that reporter, saying two alphas were having a faceoff in here!”

“ _That_ was Alastair, the head of the Security Commission.  _And_ the asshole who’s already tried to kidnap Dean once,” I replied grimly.

Lenore’s lips curled back in a snarl.  “Did he threaten you or Dean directly?  Because if he _did_ , he’s going to have a _second_ alpha—and a police officer—in his face!”

I shook my head.  “Just the usual blustering and insinuation—he _wants_ to rattle us, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.  We’ve already done as much as we can to ensure Dean’s safety here and at home.  I’m _not_ letting fear of him control our lives . . . _or_ ruin Dean’s big day.  So let’s get back to our desserts!”

After we finished eating and paid our bill, the vampires and Charlie went home.  Bobby wandered off, mumbling about checking if Ellen needed his help.  I made my way into the kitchen, which was bursting with controlled chaos.  I found a corner where I wouldn’t be in the way and waited to be noticed.

In the center of the room was a huge island with separate stations for grilling, sautéing, baking, and other cooking needs.  Along the walls, a large section was devoted to food preparation, including stations for washing, cutting, mixing sauces, preparing dough, and so on.  There were also zones for washing and drying dishes, storage of food and equipment, and plating and organizing orders to go out to the dining rooms.  Line cooks, prep cooks, dishwashers, porters, and servers moved around in their areas under the supervision of Dean and his sous chef.

Dean came over after a few minutes.  “Hey babe, you finished with dinner?”

“Yes, and everything was _fabulous_.”  I slipped an arm around his waist and nuzzled behind his ear.  “What color are you wearing tonight?”

“Quit it, you perv!  I never woulda started wearing ‘em if I’d known you’d become so obsessed with my damn underwear drawer,” he retorted with a laugh.  “How much longer are you staying?”

“I’m not sure—a couple more hours at least, unless Ellen gets tired of Bobby’s pestering and throws him out on his ass earlier!” I answered.

“Alright, you can wait in the staff break room if you want, or in my office,” he told me.  “I’ll come join you when my next break comes up.”

“See you soon then.”  I headed out of the kitchen to make a bathroom stop before going into the employee area.

When I merged from the restroom, Meg was waiting outside.  “Hi there, Sam.  I wanted to catch you since Tall-and-Creepy showed up.  Thought you might want to know that he was talking to Ruby earlier.”

“He was?  Why?”

She shrugged.  “I didn’t hear anything.  I left to powder my nose and saw him at our table when I got back, but he walked away before I came up.  She didn’t look to happy about the conversation but wouldn’t tell me about it.  Maybe you can talk to her, find out if he’s been hassling her or whatever.”

“I’ll do that.  If that asshole is harassing Ruby to try to get to me, I’ll make sure _this_ complaint gets heard!  Thanks for the heads up, Meg,” I said.

She nodded and left.  I continued on to the break room, which didn’t look much different than the ones at my firm.  There was a small kitchenette with a fridge, microwave, toaster, and coffee maker, several sets of small tables and chairs, and a sofa and couple of armchairs.  I took an armchair and tooled around on my tablet for a while, then eventually dozed off.

I woke to a gentle shaking of my shoulder and realized someone had reclined the armchair and covered me with a throw blanket at some point.  “Wha—what time is it?  How long have I been asleep?”

Dean smiled down at me indulgently.  “It’s almost eleven, and you’ve been out for a coupla hours at least.  I didn’t wanna wake you when I first found you like this, so I just made you comfortable.  Bobby took an Uber home a while ago so he can pack and turn in for his early flight tomorrow.  Ellen’s kicking me out now, since the dining rooms are closing down.”

I sat up and rubbed my face.  “Sorry about that.  I guess we’re heading home then.  How did the rest of the evening go?”

“Really good, man.  The dining rooms were pretty packed all night, and the bar’s still full.  No one sent anything back, and from what we heard, everyone left happy.  I talked to the guests a few times—Ellen thinks putting a face to the person behind the food is a good idea—including a coupla other reporters and critics.  We just hafta see if this keeps up or if tonight’s just a fluke,” he replied.

“This isn’t a fluke, Dee.  Everyone here, especially Ellen and you, has put their heart and soul into the success of this restaurant.  All of that dedication is going to pay off.”  I stood and gave him a firm kiss.

He put his arms around me and leaned into my chest.  “Hope you’re right, Sammy.”

I hugged him back.  “You can do whatever you set your mind to, sweetheart.  This is _just_ the beginning!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have Dean's big debut as a chef! He started out feeling very unsure of himself, but hopefully was more confident in his abilities by the end of the night. Sam and his friends were certainly proud of him! Disclaimer: I've never worked in any kind of restaurant, so everything depicted in here and in subsequent chapters is based on Google-fu and my imagination. Please feel free to point out if I've made any glaring errors in how a restaurant is run (though some have been made intentionally for story reasons).
> 
> Ever since watching 6.17 My Heart Will Go On, I've totally shipped Bobby/Ellen. My other stories are set too early or too late in the show, so this is my first time being able to show that relationship. I think it's adorable seeing the soft, caring husband underneath Bobby's irascible exterior, like in that episode, or when his wife comes back in 5.15 Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid, or even when Jody comes over in 7.06 Slash Fiction. So this was fun, depicting him as the bashful suitor instead of the knowing father or mentor figure. :) A small bit of trivia--everyone named in this chapter is a character from the show, and hopefully you'll be able to recognize which episodes they were pulled from. As I mentioned before, with such a huge cast of characters, there's been very little need to invent OCs throughout the story.
> 
> And as promised, Alastair finally shows his creepy face again! We'll have to see if he's going to make good on those veiled threats and insinuations . . . And whose side will Ruby turn out to be on?
> 
> It looks like the start date for my new job is going to be pushed to near the end of the month, so I might be able to have the writing for this story done before I go back to work, as there should be only 2-3 chapters left to finish. Next week's update should go up on Monday evening as usual. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	37. Chapter 37

“I keep telling you, man, that I don’t mind doing this shit for you,” Dean complained.

“Dean, you’re now spending all afternoon and evening five days a week cooking for other people, and you still find the time to make us breakfast each morning and provide me dinner when I come over to the restaurant after work.  The _least_ I can do, since you’re spending so much time in the kitchen, is put together my own lunches,” I explained as I finished assembling a sandwich.  “Yes, I know that you’d make me something far better, but I’m _fine_ with the simple stuff I can throw together myself.”

Since the restaurant launch a few weeks ago, I shifted my work schedule ahead two hours to sync up better with Dean’s.  He initially ran himself ragged, going in well before noon and often not coming home until after midnight every day, trying to make sure that everything in the kitchen was running smoothly.  I was less than thrilled at how little I got to see him, even with the change to my own schedule, but I didn’t want to say anything that might discourage him.  I still worried though, as the long twelve- to sixteen-hour workdays he was putting in left him with little energy for anything else.

Ellen finally put her foot down after nearly two weeks of this—she didn’t want any of her employees burning out from overwork, especially her head cook.  She’d hired additional people from the onset and arranged their schedules so that no one needed to work more than nine-hour shifts.  This had included bringing on two sous chefs, one to cover the morning and afternoon hours and the other to cover the evening and night hours, to provide additional supervision for the kitchen crew—specifically so Dean _didn’t_ have to be there all the time.

After reaming him out for trying to kill himself through exhaustion, Ellen got him to cut back to more reasonable hours.  Now in the mornings we got up, had breakfast, and hung out together before I left for work, and he then went to the restaurant a couple hours later.  In the evenings, I usually left the office to head over to Harvelle's, where I hung out in the break room or office, had dinner with Dean, and went home with him at the end of his shift.  Also at her insistence, he had Sundays and Mondays free, giving us one whole day each week to spend together and him another day to relax by himself, run errands, and whatnot.

“Yeah, yeah, so you keep telling me.  Don’t mean I hafta _like_ it,” he grumbled.

I smiled at his adorably pouty expression and pulled him in for a tender kiss.  “I love that you want to take care of me like this, baby.  But you have to let me take care of you too, and that includes not putting any unnecessary burdens on your already busy schedule.  Besides, even _I_ can make a sandwich without destroying your precious kitchen!”

“That’s what you said Sunday morning when you offered to make pancakes, and it took an _hour_ to clean up the fucking disaster zone you created!” he retorted with a smirk.  “I ain’t leaving you in here unsupervised again!”

We bickered good-naturedly while I packed up the rest of my lunch, and then I gave him another kiss and left the apartment.  As I rode the subway to my office building, I reflected pleasantly on just how well everything had been going lately—Dean’s heat, his job at the restaurant, and our relationship in general.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be _too_ much longer before we’d be ready to take our lives together to the next level.

I’d just returned to my desk after a late afternoon meeting when my cellphone buzzed.  My eyebrows rose when the screen showed Harvelle’s office number instead of Dean’s cell.  “Hey babe, did you forget to charge your phone or some—”

“Sam, it’s Ellen,” she interrupted.  “Is Dean with you?”

“No, why would he be?  I’m planning to come over after work like I normally do, but that’s not for a couple of hours yet,” I pointed out while reading through my emails. 

There was a pause at the other end of the line.  “Dean told me he got a text from you earlier asking him to meet you at another restaurant across town for an early dinner—something ‘bout celebrating an anniversary?  He wanted to lemme know that he’d be gone for longer than the usual hour he takes to eat with you, though he expected to be back in under two hours.”

I felt a chill.  “Ellen, I never sent any text like that.  Yes, it would be four months ago today since I bought him at the Market, but I don't know if that's something I’d necessarily _celebrate_ , all things considered.  If I did, I _certainly_ wouldn't pull him away from work in the middle of his shift like that.  When did he get that message?”

“Sam, he left nearly _three hours_ ago, and he ain’t answering any of my calls,” she said worriedly.  “Is there someone else who coulda sent it, like one of your friends playing a bad joke?”

I thought for a moment before answering.  “The only ones capable of making the text look like it came from me are Ash and Charlie, and this isn't Ash's style.  I could _maybe_ see Charlie trying to set us up on some kind of romantic date, but she'd have sent _me_ a message too if that was the case.”

“Then we've got a _serious_ problem, since we both know that boy wouldn't just lie to me and play hooky.  You got any means to trace his whereabouts?”

“He still has the RFID tag the Market implanted, and I have the tracking software on my laptop.  I can also try tracing the GPS on his phone,” I replied.

“You do that then, and you call me the _moment_ you find anything,” she ordered before hanging up.

I sat down and first tried calling Dean’s phone, but it simply rang repeatedly before going to voicemail.  I pulled up the RFID tracking software and the GPS locator I’d installed on his phone (with his permission, of course).  After searching for a short amount of time, both programs pulled up the same position, which was in a rather sketchy neighborhood about ten minutes away from the restaurant.  I plugged the coordinates into my phone and rushed out of my office.

On my way past, I stopped at my assistant’s desk.  “Ruby, hold my calls for the rest of the day.  I have to leave, and I doubt I’ll be back today.”

Ruby looked concerned.  “What’s the matter?”

“Dean’s missing from work and not answering his phone.  I need you to hold down the fort here while I look for him,” I said hurriedly.

“Shit!  I’ll do whatever I can to help, Sam.  Do you want me to call anyone for you?”  She started to pick up her phone.

“Not right now, but thanks.”  As I turned away, she gave off a poorly suppressed burst of smug glee.  I froze momentarily, then pivoted back to stare at her.  “What do you know, Ruby?”

Her furtive gloating abruptly changed to panic.  “Wh—what are you talking about?  I—I don’t know anything!  Besides, I might not like _him_ , but you know I’d never do anything to hurt _you_!”

I growled, grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her from her chair.  After dragging her into my office and kicking the door shut, I dropped my human semblance completely.  I slammed her against the wall and wrapped a hand around her throat, my claws pricking her skin.

“What did you _do_ , Ruby?  You know it’s useless to try to lie to me—or did you forget _what I am_?” I snarled, my eyes glowing red.  “I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt many times until now, including after Alastair talked you, because I considered you a friend.  But I _won’t_ hesitate to rip you to shreds to protect my mate!”

“He’s not . . . You haven’t clai—”  She choked as I tightened my grip.

“We may not have formalized our bond yet, but that _doesn’t_ change what he is to me, or I to him.  I’d tear apart Heaven _and_ Hell to keep him safe!”  I leaned in menacingly.  “And if necessary, I’ll _gladly_ start with _you_.”

“He’s _nothing_ . . . just a pretty sack of meat.  You deserve better!” she gasped, glaring in defiance.

“And you think hurting Dean will somehow make _you_ worthier of my affections?  My dear, I’d sooner rip your heart out with my bare hands than give you mine—and that has _nothing_ to do with the plumbing of your current vessel,” I crooned, my fangs grazing her ear.  “And you are still _wasting my time_!”

“Do your worst!  You _can’t_ make me talk, Sam!”

“You think not?”  I shoved her up the wall until her eyes were level with mine, leaving her feet dangling a good foot off the floor.  “You think because I’m not a hellspawn like you, I can't make you wish you'd _never_ been born?  You think I don’t know about the binding runes trapping you in this body and hobbling your powers, like the rest of Lucifer’s minions?  You think I don’t know how to _use_ a weakness like that?  Imagine what it would feel like if I _slowly_ fed you to Juliet, as you remained _fully_ conscious while you’re digested and then shat out, _unable_ to escape this vessel or even die while you’re forced to endure this over and _over_.  And _that’s_ just the first idea that popped into my head!”

Her fingers scrabbled desperately at my hand, while her feet kicked futilely against the wall.  I merely squeezed harder, crushing her throat, and continued, “It’s in your best interests to confess to _me_ , you know.  I _could_ turn you over to Crowley instead, with all of the resources and . . . _creativity_ he could bring to bear against you.  He likes Dean _quite_ a lot, and this would give him the excuse to make sure your torment _never_ ends.  Now _talk_!”

Ruby’s terror spiked even further at the mention of Crowley, and I dropped her.  She coughed and croaked through the ruins of her trachea, “Alastair . . . he ca—came to me that night at the restaurant and asked for my assistance.  He t—told me he’d get that damn omega out of my way and help me win you over—even get me into a meat suit you’d find more attractive.

“We di—didn't talk much that night—didn't want to raise anyone’s suspicions.  We—we met again a few days later and came up with this plan to get _him_ alone, away from your protection.  I s—sent that text from your phone earlier this afternoon and then de—deleted the thread so you wouldn’t notice.”

“Where did Alastair take him?” I demanded.

She shook her head and coughed again.  “I—I don’t know, I _swear_!  Alastair didn’t tell me what he was pl—planning to do once he had Dean.”

I stared at her for a long moment, sensing plenty of fear but no further attempts at guile.  Leaving her lying crumpled in a heap on the ground, I walked over to my desk and first paged security.  I then called Benny, keeping an eye on her while she attempted to sit up.  I also used this time to get my form back under control.

Benny picked up after the first ring.  “What’s up, chief?”

“Alastair’s taken Dean—he used Ruby to lure him away from the restaurant about three hours ago.  I need someone to come here to arrest Ruby for aiding and abetting in the kidnapping.  She’ll be in the custody of the firm’s security until then,” I explained succinctly.  “I’d like you to meet me at the following site if you can.  Fortunately, Alastair wasn’t smart enough to disable Dean’s RFID chip or the GPS on his phone.”

“ _Fuck_!  Alright, I’ll send a coupla uniformed officers to pick her up.  Gimme the address you got, and Len and I will hook up with you there.”  He hung up after getting the coordinates.

I called Ellen to fill her in while waiting for the security guards to take Ruby away, then ran to Lenore’s office.  “Lenore, I need to borrow your car right away!  Alastair snatched Dean a couple of hours ago, but I’ve got his location.  I obviously can’t waste the time going home on the subway to get my car.”

“ _Damn_ him!  Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.

I shook my head.  “Benny and his partner are meeting me there, and probably Ellen too.  I’ll call you once we have Dean back.”

She nodded and tossed me her keys.  I dashed for the elevators, but when one didn’t arrive after a couple of moments, I growled in frustration and took the stairs.  I once again loosed the bounds on my true shape to rush down the stairwell far faster than a human could.  At the parking level, I made a beeline for Lenore’s Porsche Cayenne, stuck my phone, with the GPS directions already turned on, into the cradle on the dashboard, and peeled out of the garage.

I wasn’t entirely sure how I got to the destination, as my panicked thoughts were filled with images of what could be happening to Dean, and it was probably pure luck that I didn’t get pulled over or into an accident with how wildly I was driving.  The immediate area was full of abandoned industrial buildings, boarded-up storefronts, and decrepit housing units.  The actual location turned out to be an empty lot covered in broken asphalt and scraggly weeds and surrounded by a mostly tumbled-down chain-link fence.

The first thing I noticed was the Impala.  It was partly up on the curb with both front tires blown out and the driver's door wide open.  It was only after I got out of my vehicle that I saw Benny’s car parked nearby with the police dome light whirling on its roof.  The two vampires were standing in the lot, examining something on the ground, and Benny waved me over.  Ellen pulled up just as I hurried over to join the others.

“Afraid the news ain't good, Sam,” Benny told me as I approached.  “Look at this.”

The ground where he was pointing was noticeably scuffed, as if from a violent struggle, with blood splattered around liberally.  In the middle of one of the larger stains was a bloody bit of glass and metal that I recognized as an RFID chip.  Lying off to one side was Dean's engraved Colt and the smashed canister of supernatural “Mace” he always carried.  Mingled with the copper tang of blood and the peppery sting of the repellant was the rotten-egg stench of sulfur.

“The blood ain't all his—looks like Dean got a coupla shots off against his assailants.  Near as we can tell from what we can see here, Alastair's goons musta stretched a spike strip or something similar across the road to disable his car.  Dean managed to get his gun outta the lockbox under his seat before they dragged him out, and he probably put up quite a fight,” Benny said.  “But they musta eventually overpowered him and dug the chip outta his back before taking him away.”

“His phone and wallet are under here,” Len added from by the car.  “And what looks like a hex or mojo bag.  Douchebags probably left all this behind on purpose to misdirect us.”

I felt . . . numb, completely blind-sided by this information.  I’d been _so_ convinced that Dean would be here, that we could confront whoever took him and bring him home safely.  I’d seriously underestimated Alastair, and he’d managed to outwit me, despite all of my precautions.

“Now what?  How do we find him?” I asked helplessly.  “They’ve taken away every means that Dean had to protect himself _and_ that we had to trace his location.”

“We can try canvassing the area, see if someone around here saw something.  Unfortunately, this sorta neighborhood tends to hunker down when bad shit goes down and then be deaf, blind, and mute when cops come to ask questions,” Benny admitted.

“We’re lucky the car’s still here and not in some fucking chop shop,” Len put in.

“Oh gods, that would’ve _devastated_ Dean!  Assuming . . . assuming we can even _find_ and rescue him in time!”  I dropped my face into my hands.

Ellen laid a hand on my arm.  “You hafta keep calm now, Sam.  You _ain’t_ gonna do Dean any good if you fall apart—and that’s probably what that bastard wants too.  Sure, this is a setback, but there’s still _plenty_ we can do.  These fine boys in blue can investigate ‘round here and see what they can find.  We can squeeze that bitch Ruby some more to see if she knows anything else.  We can ask Rowena to scry for him.  And so on.”

“She’s right, my friend.  We’ve already called for backup, including more officers to help with the canvas and a CSI team to gather the evidence here properly and tow the Impala back to their lab.  Don’t give up hope yet,” Benny said.

I lifted my head and glanced around.  “Did Jo come with you, Ellen?”

“Nah, but I did.”  Ash blinked into view.  “Jo wanted to, but Ellen needed her to keep an eye on the natives back at the restaurant.  I figured my _unique_ talents might come in handy here.  I could start checking out the empty buildings ‘round here to see if Dean got taken to one of ‘em.  I don’t hafta wait for a warrant, and locked or boarded-up doors ain’t gonna stop me.”

“You do that, Ash.  But no heroics if you _do_ find him, you hear?  These _ain’t_ the sorta folk you wanna mess with unprepared, so you come straight back to us,” Ellen commanded briskly. 

“Ten-four, boss lady!”  Ash sketched a hasty salute before flickering away.

“Benny, you might wanna let Sam come with you while you question witnesses.  He can tell if any of ‘em are trying to hide something,” she continued, then looked at me.  “Honey, you think you’re up for that?”

I took a deep breath and pushed my panic down.  “Yes, I can do that.  I’ll do _whatever_ it takes to get Dean back.  You’re right—he needs me to be strong right now.  And we _will_ get him back, no matter what!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUN!!! As I warned before, you don't bring in a nasty villain like Alastair and NOT have him do something nasty. This particular plot point has been planned since he was introduced, and the next few chapters will deal with what Alastair's done and the immediate aftermath. I've updated the tags to reflect recent and upcoming events, and I'll add warnings at the beginnings of certain chapters as appropriate. Nothing will be graphically described, but please pay attention to the tags and warnings in case there are things that still might upset you. For those worried that what's going to happen is worse that it actually is though, please also pay attention to what tags WEREN'T added or changed . . .
> 
> For those hoping that Ruby wouldn't turn out to be bad, unfortunately it looks like her obsession with Sam won out. I was uncertain which way she'd go when I first introduced her, but eventually decided that this route was truer to her canon personality. Those who've read my The Monster That You Know series might recognize that the threat Sam used on her is similar to one used by Dean (on Gabriel) in Go Live Some Apple-Pie Life--it was such a fun, disgusting visual that I couldn't help reusing it!
> 
> Minor bit of trivia: Benny's partner (and member of Lenore's nest) is Sheriff Len Cuse from 10.08 Hibbing 911 (though here he's a police detective like Benny, not a sheriff).
> 
> This week was quite productive, as I got two more chapters written instead of the usual one, and I think I have only two more to go. I've updated the total chapter count with what should be the final number, unless something takes longer to wrap up than expected. The next chapter should be posted next Monday evening as usual. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	38. Chapter 38

Of course, it wasn’t that easy.  Benny, Len, and I, as well as several other officers from the community, interviewed just about everyone in the neighborhood at the time of Dean’s abduction, but no one admitted to seeing anything useful.  No amount of intimidation, begging, or even bribery could get any of them to divulge what they might know.  The most we uncovered was when a resident grudgingly mentioned that the one Good Samaritan who _did_ try to help Dean got gunned down by Alastair’s brutes for his trouble, leaving everyone else too afraid of sharing his fate.

Ash’s search of the surrounding buildings proved equally fruitless—there was no sign that any of the abandoned factories, warehouses, or stores had been occupied recently by any creatures other than insects, pigeons, rats, and the occasional homeless person.  None of the businesses in the area had security cameras pointing at the lot or even the street, nor did any of the intersections in this part of town have traffic cameras.  The crime scene techs took photographs, collected blood samples, shell casings, and other evidence, and towed the Impala away for processing, but any information they could gather would take time.  And time was something we didn’t have to spare, not when my lover was in the hands of a sadist like Alastair.

Frustrated at the lack of progress, I eventually left the scene and drove to the Security Commission’s building.  I went straight up to the third floor and barged into Meg’s office, ignoring the protests of the receptionist.  Meg looked up in surprise when I slammed the door open and quickly ended the call she was making.

“Do you know where Alastair is?” I demanded without preamble.

“No, I don’t.  In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s _not_ my job to keep tabs on his creepy ass,” she responded.  “Why do you need to know anyway?”

“He kidnapped Dean this afternoon.  Remember the conversation you caught sight of between him and Ruby at the reopening?  He apparently convinced her to send a text from my phone to lure Dean away from the restaurant to a spot where his lackeys could ambush him,” I explained.  “Benny and other officers are still investigating the area, but so far they haven’t turned up anything.”

“Well, fuck me!  Hold on for a minute.”  She picked up the phone again.  “Hi Lily, it’s Meg.  Is the boss in?  Some moron just dumped a load of paperwork on my desk that needs his signature like yesterday . . . Uh huh . . . Crap!  D’ya know when he’ll be back? . . .  Listen, I _really_ need to get in touch with him ASAP.  Any chance that you know where he went? . . .  Alright, thanks.  Guess I’ll try to catch him tomorrow then.”

Meg hung up and looked back at me.  “According to his assistant, Alastair left the office a little after noon and told her he’d be out for the rest of the day.  He didn’t tell her where he was going, and to quote, she ‘knows better than to ask him questions.’  Given that this wasn’t a lawful seizure, it’s not likely that he put Dean in one of the holding cells here, but lemme check to be sure.”

I waited while she first searched on her computer and then made another call.  When she shook her head, I then asked, “Would there be records of some other facility Alastair might use to . . . _question_ people?  It’s been rumored that others have been grabbed without legitimate cause before, though not as blatantly as this.  So there _has_ to be somewhere unofficial he takes them.”

“If there _is_ any info here about someplace off the books, it’s not gonna be easy to find,” she said dubiously.  “That level of access is gonna be above my paygrade, and I’m no computer whiz.”

“I’ve got someone I can call in, as long as you don’t mind him coming here.”  Once she nodded, I pulled out my phone and made a call.  “Hey Ellen, is Ash still with you?  I need him to join me right away to hack into some files.  I’m at the Security Commission building, in Meg Master’s office.”

“I’ll tell him to leave right now.  You want to bring Charlie in on this too?” Ellen asked.  “Two computer experts have gotta be better than just one.”

I hesitated momentarily before answering.  “I’d rather hold off on that unless Ash _really_ needs the help.  Charlie’s still vulnerable if she gets made, given her position in the community.  Whereas Ash is literally a free spirit, so there’s not much these guys could do to him—assuming they can even catch him.”

“Alright then.  I’m sending Ash your way—he should be there in a few minutes.  Lemme know when you find something.”  She then hung up.

I turned back to Meg.  “My friend should be here shortly.  Listen, are you _sure_ you’re okay with this?  You could wind up in a _lot_ of trouble if Alastair finds out you’re involved.”

She shrugged.  “We demons generally don’t give a shit about right or wrong, but there _are_ still things we believe in.  I took this job because I care about our community, about what we’ve built here, and I want to do my part to keep it safe.  But I’m _not_ here to pander to the ego and whims of some delusional asshat!  The Security Commission provides valuable service to the community, and I’m _not_ letting Alastair bring it down.  Plus I kinda like you big lugs.

“Besides, he doesn’t scare me.  He may think he’s the big bad dungeon master here, but I’ve gone toe-to-toe with bigger and badder than him _and_ lived to tell the tale.  I suspect that if anyone’s gonna land in the frying pan because of this, it’s _not_ gonna be me.  Alastair’s gone too far this time, and I don’t give him good odds for coming out in one piece.”  She crossed her arms and smirked.

“Not once _I’m_ through with him!” I added grimly.  I paused as the temperature abruptly dropped and waited for Ash to materialize.  “Meg, this is my friend Ash, who’s a genius with computers.  Ash, this is Meg.  Don’t hold working here against her!”

“Well, hello there!  I don’t think I’ve ever met a sentient ghost before.  I thought all earthbound spirits were either completely nuts or stuck in some kinda endless loop,” Meg commented, extending a hand.

Ash shook it enthusiastically.  “Nice to meetcha!  Sam’s a pretty good judge of character, so I’m gonna assume that you’re an okay dude—or dudette, as the case may be—if he says so.  And yep, I’m one of a kind!  Now, whaddya got for me?”

“I need you to search for any hidden files Alastair may have, particularly any information about properties that aren’t listed in the Commission’s official documents.  He must have somewhere that he takes people when he wants to stay off the record,” I explained.  “Meg can give you access to the network here so you can work your magic.”

“Right on!  Fortunately I brought my rig, and she’s loaded for bear.”  He pulled out his homemade laptop out of the bag he was carrying, and Meg cleared off a corner of her desk.

“Once he gets hooked up, I’m gonna check the holding cells myself, just in case someone down there was trying to gimme the runaround earlier,” she stated.  “I still doubt Dean’s there, but we oughta be sure before ruling it out completely.”

“I dunno how long this is gonna take, dude, so you might not wanna hang out here and wait,” Ash said as he set his computer up.  “I can give you a holler as soon as I find something pertinent.”

“Good idea, Ash.  I’ll head back to my place to work the search from another angle.  Call me the moment you get anything we can use.”  I nodded to both of them before leaving the office.

On my way home, I called Crowley.  “Hey man, can you and Rowena meet me at my apartment right away?  It’s _very_ urgent!”

“Hullo, Moose.  What’s the matter now?”  From the background noise, it appeared that Crowley was at his club.

“Alastair abducted Dean a few hours ago—Ruby helped draw Dean away from Harvelle’s with a bogus text from my phone, and then some of Alastair’s goons grabbed him,” I informed him.  “I need both of your help to scry where he is now.  Benny and the other cops are investigating the scene of the attack, and I also have Ash and Meg searching the computer files at the Security Commission.”

“Bloody _bastard_!  I’ll fetch Mother and be at your door momentarily.”

I hung up and pulled into the parking garage.  Upon reaching the apartment, I quickly changed out of my suit and then made the one call I’d been putting off for the past several hours.

“Singer Salvage.  What can I do you for?”

I took a deep breath.  “Bobby, it’s Sam.  Dean . . . Alastair has him.”

“ _Balls!_   What the hell happened?”  The worry in Bobby’s voice was evident.

“The sonofabitch used Ruby—convinced her to send a text from my phone to get Dean away from the restaurant earlier this afternoon.  Then his thugs jumped him on the way and took him someplace—we still don’t know where,” I explained.

“Dammit boy, why didn’t you call me sooner?” he demanded.

“At first, I thought we were getting him back right away because I traced his RFID and GPS signals.  But all we found was the Impala abandoned with its tires blown, his phone, wallet, and weapons discarded in an empty lot, and the remains of the chip they’d removed from his back.  Then I was busy helping the cops comb the area for witnesses, but no one’s talking.  I’m sorry, Bobby, this is _all_ my fault!  I got complacent and underestimated Alastair, who’s been one jump ahead of me this whole time!” I admitted ashamedly.

“Keep it together, Sam!  Wallowing ain’t gonna do Dean a lick of good!” he barked.  “What else are you doing to find him?”

I explained the various investigations the others were running, and Bobby responded.  “Good!  When they’re done with their magical mojo, you send that Crowley fella here to get me, since there ain’t time to catch a plane.  Normally I wouldn’t trust a demon even as far as I can throw him, but I figure he’s more concerned with helping Dean right now than causing mayhem.”

“Thanks, man.  Your aid will be invaluable,” I replied before hanging up.  I then worked on preparing a space for the ritual.  I’d just set down the materials I’d gathered when the doorbell rang.

Rowena threw her arms around me as soon as I opened the door.  “Oh Samuel, I’m _so_ sorry!  Fergus told me _all_ about what’s happened.  Ye poor boy!  Of course we’ll do whatever we can to help ye get Dean back.”

“Thanks, Rowena—and you too, Crowley.  If you’ll follow me this way?”  I led them into the dining room.

She looked approvingly at the drafting paper spread out on one end of the table, with a large copper bowl, several candles, a few herbs from Dean’s garden, and a jug of spring water placed on it.  “It looks like ye did your homework, Sam!  Or maybe dabbled a wee bit in the art yourself?  This will certainly make the ritual go smoother.  Now, do ye have something of Dean’s I can use?”

I nodded and handed her one of Dean’s favorite t-shirts.  “No, I’ve never practiced magic before, but I’ve researched some of it before out of curiosity.  Do you need anything else?”

“Between what ye got here and what I brought with me, I _should_ have what I require.  Just give me a few moments to prepare everything.  Fergus, if you dinnae mind?”  She began pulling items out of her leather tote.

With Crowley’s assistance, Rowena drew the necessary sigils on the paper and purified the water.  She placed the bowl, with the t-shirt and the crumbled herbs inside, in the center of the symbols and poured in the water, filling it to the brim.  She then closed her eyes and began to chant in Latin, and the water started to swirl as she continued.  It flattened out and became an opaque silvery color after she intoned the last word of the spell.

She frowned at the blank surface.  “Bollocks!  Well now, _that’s_ rather disappointing!”

I sat down abruptly, my heart clenching.  “What does . . .  Could this mean he’s . . . _dead_?”

“Och no, nae t’all!  If Dean were dead, the water would’ve turned flat black.  I’m sorry—I dinnae mean to scare ye like that!”  She laid a reassuring hand on my arm.

“Mother’s right.  Dean’s still alive, but wherever he’s being held at must be warded,” Crowley added.  “Which makes sense, if you think about it.  The Security Commission maintains the protections over the whole city, including those that prevent outsiders from using divination magic to see what goes on here.  So it stands to reason that Alastair would get someone to cast a similar spell over where he conducts his . . . shall we say, less _reputable_ activities.”

“Whoever did this may be good, but _I’m_ better!” Rowena insisted.  “I can search for any focused castings of that type of spell and then pinpoint the exact location.  However, it may take _quite_ a while if I have to scan the _entire_ city.  D’ye have any means of narrowing our parameters?”

I forced myself to calm down, knowing that getting upset wouldn’t help the situation.  “I might.  Let me make a couple of calls.”

I pulled my phone out and first dialed Benny’s number.  “Hey there, man.  Sorry if I’m interrupting your investigation, but is there any chance that you’ve found something?”

“’Fraid we don’t have much as of yet, Sam.  The techs can probably get some IDs offa the blood samples they took, but that sorta shit is gonna take a few days, even if the lab rushes the testing for us,” Benny admitted.  “Best we got right now is that we did track down a witness who admitted to seeing ‘bout five big dudes bundle Dean and the body of that poor sap who tried to help into a black van and drive off in a northeasterly direction.  The plate number she gave us led to a bogus registration though, and our computer guy hasn’t been able to track the damn thing further.”

“Here, give me the information you have so far, and I’ll see if Ash has any better luck tracing that van.”  I quickly wrote down the license plate number and description of the vehicle.  “Thanks, Benny.  I’ll let you know if we find anything more concrete.”

“I’ll do the same if we get something on our end.  Good luck, my friend,” he replied before ending the call.

I then called Meg’s office, and she picked up.  “How’s it hanging, Sam?  Any news?”

“Maybe, but we need more intel to narrow down the search.  Either of you come across something yet?”  I asked.

“Nada down in the cells, as expected.  But Casper here has hit some _serious_ paydirt with the big man’s files,” she said.  “Lemme put him on.”

There was a brief pause, and then Ash came on the line.  “Sam?  So it took a little while to crack the dude’s security.  Whoever set it up is damn good, but they _ain’t_ no match for Dr. Badass.  Like Miss Demon Chick said, there’s a _hella_ lotta info here ‘bout a buncha different types of shady business he’s been involved in.  I’m still sifting through it all.”

“That’s great to hear, Ash!  Listen, is there anything there about properties he’s using?” I inquired.

“Hold on, lemme . . . okay, here we go . . .”  There was another pause.  “Yeah, there’s a list of ones all around the city . . . ‘bout half a dozen at least.  How do we pare down the choices?  It ain’t like we got time to check ’em all out.”

“Are any northeast of where Dean was taken?”

“Lemme plug ‘em into a map and . . . yep, two of ‘em are in that area.  I just emailed you the addresses.  You gonna check ‘em both out?”

“Maybe I won’t have to.  I’m here with Crowley and Rowena, and they may have a way to determine which is the correct location,” I responded while opening his email.  “They tried scrying for Dean earlier, but wherever he’s at is protected.  Rowena thinks that she can scry for the warding, but scanning the whole city would be too time-consuming.  However, if one of these two properties has it . . .”

“I get ya!  Alright then, if you don’t have anything else you need, I’ll keep reviewing the shit I’ve downloaded from that douchebag’s computer,” Ash said.  “I’m telling you, man, some of this shit looks _pretty_ heavy—the sorta dirt that those cats at the Market _don’t_ wanna get out, if you catch my drift.”

“There’s one more thing actually.  Benny managed to get the plate number for the vehicle they were driving.  If you can find out if it’s one of Alastair’s, and check traffic cameras near these two properties to see if it shows up, that’ll help confirm that we’re looking at the right place.”  I emailed him the vehicle information as I spoke.

“Can do, my man!  I’ll drop you a line once I trace it.  And Meg says she’ll try to run interference in case any of the asswipe’s supporters come sniffing around.  Dr. Badass out.”

I passed the addresses on to Rowena.  While I’d been on the phone, she’d started to set up a different divination spell, with Crowley summoning a minion to fetch any materials we didn’t have present.  She drew a particular rune over each of the two locations on a map, then lit a small bowl of herbs on fire and began to chant in Latin again.  At the end of this incantation, she cast the smoldering ashes over the map, and one of the symbols began to glow with purplish light.

“And _there_ ye have it, my dear.  That particular building has the type of abjuration magic that could’ve blocked our first ritual,” she proclaimed.  “D’ye want me to break through it to make _sure_ Dean is there?  I cannae guarantee that whoever’s there willnae notice the intrusion however.”

I shook my head.  “Let’s hold off on that for now.  If Ash can track the van to there, that should be sufficient corroboration.  What I need now is to determine how to get Dean out of there.”

“I assume that you won’t want to wait for the constabulary to get warrants and that sort of tedious nonsense,” Crowley observed.  “I can call in some trustworthy underlings for backup, and of course Juliet and her pack mates will be invaluable not only as additional muscle but also in finding Dean once we’re inside the place.  Once your hacker friend makes contact again, I recommend seeing if he can call up any further information on our target, such schematics, security systems, et cetera.”

“If Fergus can take me back to my shop, I can put together protective hex bags for those going,” Rowena added.  “As well as coming along to provide firepower myself, of course.”

“I appreciate everything you’re doing for Dean and me.  If you can start on those preparations, I’ll contact you as soon as I hear back from Ash.  We can then meet up about a block or so away from this place and coordinate from there,” I said, pointing to a spot on the map.  “Oh and Crowley, could you go to Sioux Falls to bring Bobby Singer here?  He’s waiting for you.”

His brows rose.  “A _hunter_ is willing to accept aid from a demon?  What _is_ the world coming to?”

“Hell, this was _his_ idea!  Apparently he’s concerned enough about Dean to even work with _you_ ,” I retorted with a weak attempt at a smile.

After the two left, I paced and waited impatiently for Ash’s call.  He contacted me a short while later to verify that the van had been seen heading to the location Rowena had identified, though he was still working on tracing its true ownership.  I instructed him to focus first on digging up whatever he could about the building, and he volunteered to join us when we went after Dean to deal with any electronic security or surveillance there.  I then called Lenore to let her know her SUV was in my parking garage and turned down her offer of assistance.

My last call was to Ellen.  After being brought up to speed, she insisted, “You let me know when you’re going in, and I’ll join you.  I already got my shotgun and pistol cleaned and loaded.”

I sighed.  “I appreciate the offer, Ellen, but I can’t accept it.”

“Now I _know_ this ain’t ‘bout me being a woman or a human, is it, Sam?” she asked in a dangerous tone.

“Of _course_ not!  This has _nothing_ to do with gender or species, seeing as how Rowena and Bobby will be coming.  But you’ve been a civilian for _years_ now, and even before that you weren’t really a hunter yourself,” I pointed out.  “This is the same reason I didn’t take Lenore up on her offer either.  As much as I want Dean back, I _can’t_ let you risk yourself like this—and _he_ wouldn’t want you to get hurt on his behalf either.”

“That may be true, but I’m pretty sure I _still_ got more damn experience with hunting and violence than _you_ , Sam, and I know _you_ ain’t sitting on the sidelines for this.  This _ain’t_ your call to make, son.  Dean’s part of my family now too, and I ain’t gonna be benched,” she told me flatly.  “I’m still just as handy with a goddamn gun as any hunter that ever came to the Roadhouse, _and_ you’re gonna need someone who knows more than basic first aid, considering the kinda shape that boy’s gonna be in.”

I recognized that arguing further would be futile.  “Fine, but please promise to try to stay behind Crowley’s people as much as possible, okay?  Dean will kick _my_ ass if something happens to you—once _he’s_ done beating the shit of Alastair!”

Ellen chuckled.  “That’s the spirit, kid!  _We’re_ gonna kick Alastair’s ugly ass and get Dean back in one piece—just you see!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the help of several friends, Sam now has the probable location of where Alastair has Dean. Next is on to the thrilling rescue! We just have to hope Dean isn't in too bad of a shape after several hours as Alastair's "guest" . . .
> 
> I know a number of you were hoping that Juliet would be able to track Dean down for Sam. However, it's my head canon that without a link to the target's soul, hellhounds aren't much better than regular dogs at finding someone--which is why they're only sent after those whose crossroads deal is due and not just anyone a demon wants found. And even the best bloodhound would have difficulty tracking someone after they've been taken away in a moving vehicle. Plus I didn't want to make it too easy to find Dean, which forced Sam to turn to his friends for assistance (and thus gave me a chance to use characters like Meg, Ash, and Rowena more). But don't worry, Juliet will have her part to play in the rescue . . .
> 
> This update is going up a little early today because I'm meeting a friend I met through Tumblr for dinner, and I'm not sure how late I'll be back. I'm currently working on finishing the writing on Chapter 41 and should have the whole story done within a week or so. Next Monday I'm starting a new job, so the next chapter will go up in the evening after I get home. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for canon-typical levels of violence in this chapter, and there will be reference to what was done to Dean and some mention of his injuries. As before, nothing is described graphically, but please take care if these things might still upset you.

I met up with the others shortly afterward.  Crowley was already there with a handful of his bruisers, some of whom I recognized from when Alastair had tried to send his own goons to our apartment.  Juliet was the only hellhound in sight, but the others’ presence was evident from their low growls and the clicking of their nails on the pavement.  Ash wasn’t visible either, but his laptop was sitting on a junction box in active use.  Bobby and Rowena were deep in conversation off to one side, with his duffel bag and her leather tote at their feet.  Ellen was getting out of her car as I pulled up, and to my surprise Jo was with her—something Ellen wasn’t too pleased about, judging by her expression.

Our rendezvous point was around the corner from our target, which appeared to be a small warehouse.  We were in an older industrial area, so the neighborhood was full of factories, mills, refineries, and other warehouses, some still in use and others obviously abandoned.  The building we were interested in was fairly nondescript, with a corrugated metal façade and a few blacked-out windows high up on the walls.  A rough-looking werewolf was lounging seemingly idly near the one door we could see.

“Bobby’s got a trank gun with him, loaded with darts he says oughta knock out an elephant,” Ash commented as he blinked into view, still working on his laptop.  “Guess he figured we wanna avoid a high body count if we can, so he brought some nonlethal options.  Once the rest of us are good to go, he’ll drop that dude.”

“Great!  What other security do we have to contend with?” I asked, masking my ever-increasing worry beneath a veneer of calm.

“They’ve got cameras on the doors and throughout the building, going to a guard station on the other side of that entrance.  But I already got access to their security feed from cracking the cocksucker’s files back at the Commission.  I’m recording footage right now to put on a loop before we go in.”  He tapped the screen, which displayed images from multiple cameras.  “I’m also gonna disable the alarms at the guard station so they can’t alert their buddies when we go in.”

He continued, “There’s an electronic lock on the door that requires a keycard to get in, and from what I can tell, the cells have the same thing.  I can bypass this one here after the guard’s outta the way.  Inside the building, past the guard station I mentioned, is a whole mess of hallways fulla cells, ‘interrogation’ rooms, and more guard posts.  Finding Dean in all _that_ could be tricky.”

“Don’t worry—we’ll figure out some way to track him in there.”  I turned to the others.  “Is everyone ready?”

Crowley replied, “Just waiting on you, Moose.  Shall we?”

Before I could answer, another car drove up and parked behind my M5.  Benny got out and said, “I know y’all ain’t waiting to do this the legal way, and I’m here to help.  Dean’s my friend too, and that trumps any consequences for being here in my book.”

I nodded at him thankfully and then looked over at Jo.  She raised her chin defiantly and added, “Don’t _even_ say it, okay?  You’re going to need _all_ the help you can get, so I’m _not_ sitting this one out!”

I hesitated briefly, until I saw both Bobby and Crowley nod at me from behind Jo.  Satisfied that she’d be taken care of, I squared my shoulders.  “In case I don’t have a chance to say this later, thank you all for what you’re doing.  Once we get inside, our first objective will be taking out the guard station just past the doors.  Ash has control of their security system, so we should be able to go through without alerting the whole building if we’re careful.  Bobby, you good to go?”

“Before we get started, everyone take one of these.”  Rowena handed out hex bags wrapped in dark purple canvas.  “Make sure ye keep these on ye at all times while we’re inside.  They willnae protect ye against _all_ magic, but they _will_ prevent any demons from using their abilities on ye.”

Once she was done, Bobby straightened his cap and set a pneumatic rifle to his shoulder.  After a minute or so of aiming, we all heard a soft _phut!_ as he fired.  I peered around the corner and saw the werewolf start to raise a hand to the dart in his neck before crumpling to the ground.

Ash immediately moved up to the door and unscrewed the casing on the card reader.  He plugged a couple of leads from his laptop into it and typed furiously for a couple of minutes, then gave the rest of us a thumbs up as the door clicked open.

We hurried forward, with Crowley’s men in the lead.  One of them kicked the door open and rushed in, with the others right on his heels.  The hellhound pack ran in next, each of them flickering into view as they crossed the threshold.  Bobby, Benny, and I followed, with Ellen and Jo close behind.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Crowley saunter in last, gesturing to drag the unconscious were in with him before closing the door.

Inside, the two guards were already subdued and being secured with zipties and gags.  While Bobby quickly drew a devil’s trap around them with spray paint, Ash got onto the computer in the guard station.  Crowley dumped the guard from outside unceremoniously on top of the other two.

“Hmm . . . Well, there are a buncha prisoners in here, but looks like they ain’t identified by name or anything useful,” Ash announced.  “And the cells can’t be unlocked remotely, at least not from here.”

“Think I’ve got something to help with that.”  Bobby straightened and held up three keycards, then threw one each to Benny and Ellen.

“Assuming they work on the cell doors, that’ll take care of letting Dean out.  But first we hafta _find_ him,” Ellen pointed out.  “Do we wanna split up to look for him?”

“No need for that, my dear.  I believe I’ve got a solution to the problem,” Crowley replied.  “In fact, if it had occurred to me earlier, we might’ve found this sodding place sooner.”

He sketched what appeared to be a series of runes in the air before signaling to Juliet.  She stared at me intently for a moment and then barked once.  She suddenly lunged forward, and he had to grab her collar to keep her from dashing off down the hall.

“What was _that_?” I asked curiously.

“It’s all about the _souls_ , Gigantor.  When a mortal signs a contract with one of us, it’s their soul that powers our ability to fulfill their pathetic requests.  It’s that same lien on their soul that then allows my hounds to find them when their deal is due—without it, these fellows can track no better than an ordinary dog,” he explained.  “The spell I cast made the bond between you and our missing young friend discernible to Juliet and her pack mates.”

My brow furrowed in confusion.  “What do you mean?  _What_ bond?  We’re not mated yet.

He rolled his eyes.  “Honestly, I’m starting to wonder what _exactly_ Squirrel sees in you, mate.  You’re bloody _soulmates_ , you moron!  Did you think _you_ fell for him after so long as a happy bachelor just because of his pretty face and perky arse?  And did you think _he_ was able to overlook his past _and_ being bought as your concubine simply due to your puppy-dog eyes and overstuffed gentleman’s sausage?  Of course not!  You two big, beautiful, lumbering piles of flannel were _meant_ for each other.  If I’d realized this sooner, we could’ve tracked Dean here when you first called me.  My apologies for the oversight and the delay.”

I was stunned by this revelation, but this wasn’t the time to process the news.  “It doesn’t matter if it helps us find him faster right now, man.  And it means we can stick together, at least for the moment.”

Crowley ordered one of his men and one of the hounds to remain here with Ash, who would continue to monitor the security feed.  The rest of us followed after Juliet, who leapt ahead as soon as he released her collar.  Past the guard station was a warren of hallways lined with rooms built out of cinder blocks and fitted with heavy metal doors.  The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay, and the miasma of terror, misery, and pain in here was even worse than at the Food Market.  It took most of my self-control not to bend over and spew the contents of my stomach on the floor, and some of my companions also were visibly trying not to gag.

We passed by a few more guard posts as we wove our way through the maze, but each time the pair or trio of guards were no match for our superior forces.  Particularly not with Jo disabling the demons with a stream of holy water from the brightly colored Super Soaker she carried and either Bobby tranquilizing the weres, vamps, and ghouls or Rowena freezing them in place with a swiftly cast spell.  We then bludgeoned, drugged, or magicked them into unconsciousness, relieved them of their weapons and keycards, and left them bound and imprisoned in their own guardroom before continuing our search.

As we approached yet another intersection, I made out the sound of someone repeatedly swearing over the moans and screams echoing through this hellish place.  We rounded the corner and came face-to-face with Dean, who was leaning against the wall and painfully trying to inch himself forward.  He was clad only in a pair of torn jeans, which left his injuries in plain view—swelling and bruising on his face and ribs, cuts and burns all over his torso, one arm bending in the wrong place as it was cradled against his chest, and one foot dragging as he moved.  There was blood dried in his hair, smeared around his mouth, dripping from his various wounds, and staining his jeans.  His skin was pale and clammy from pain and exertion, and it was readily apparent that he was upright and moving through sheer willpower alone.

I ran forward and then caught myself before throwing my arms around him when I noticed both his labored breathing and the whip marks on his back.  My eyes immediately fell on his nape, which to my great relief showed no signs of a mating bite.  I contented myself with carefully putting my hands on his shoulders and drawing him close, nearly overcome with gratitude, pride, and love.

“Thank _gods_ we found you, baby!  I’ve been worried sick!” I exclaimed as I inhaled his rich scent.  “But . . . _how_ did you get out?”

Dean’s smile was weary as he leaned against my chest, but there was a hint of a proud gleam in his eyes.  “Motherfucker _seriously_ underestimated me, man—he assumed I was just another weak, pathetic little _bitch_.  Apparently he didn’t realize that being beaten on a daily basis for most of my goddamn childhood left me with a fucking _epic_ pain tolerance! 

“So I played him—I gave him the reaction he expected when he started in on me with the torture and shit.  Which _did_ suck great big donkey balls, I ain’t gonna lie, but I yelled and cursed and cried like the biggest sniveling pussy ever.  I eventually pretended to pass out, and he untied me and took me offa his rack.  Then when he leaned in to sniff me or some shit while trying to undo my pants, I reached up and bit his fucking _nose_ off!”  He bared his fangs, which as an omega were smaller than mine but still impressive, and his eyes flared gold for a moment.

“While Alastair was hollering in pain, I picked his keycard outta his pocket before he fucking backhanded me into the damn wall, which is how my arm and ribs got busted.  Then some of his flunkies dragged me off and threw me into a cell, and I think I _did_ actually black out for a while,” he continued.  “When I finally came to, I unlocked the door and started to try to find a way out.  Unfortunately his goons musta fucked up my goddamn ankle when they chucked me into that cell, so getting anywhere’s been a real pain in the ass.”

“You’re _amazing_ , you know that?” I told him before giving him a soft kiss.

Bobby laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder, his eyes damp.  “It’s good to see you, boy!  But let’s _not_ do this again, huh?”

Ellen then bustled up, with Jo at her side, and said briskly, “We ain’t got time to tend to everything, but we’ll get the worst of these wounds taken care of right now, Dean.  Then you’re gonna hafta carry him, Sam, so we can get outta here faster.”

I helped Dean lower himself to the ground and then stepped out of the way.  The two women pulled out the medical supplies they’d brought with them and went to work.  They cleaned and bound the worst of his cuts and burns, splinted his broken arm and put it in a sling, and wrapped a brace around his sprained ankle.  Bobby and I hovered helplessly nearby, with Juliet circling and whining, until they were done, while most of the others stood guard at either end of the hallway.

As I knelt down to drape my outer shirt over his shoulders and cautiously gather him in my arms, Dean asked, “What ‘bout the _other_ poor bastards in here?  We ain’t gonna just leave ‘em behind, right?”

“Of course not, brother.  We’re gonna check each of the cells on our way out and bring anyone we find with us.  I already called this in, so the other guys are gonna go through the rest of the place when they get here.  No one’s gonna hafta stay in this shithole any longer,” Benny promised gravely.

Though I did my best not to jostle him, Dean still went white, his breath hissing out, when I stood up.  Bobby reached out and squeezed his uninjured arm gently before shouldering his rifle and moving off to one side.  Once the Harvelles were packed up again, we started to head back towards the entrance.

Our progress was much slower than on the way in, and not only because I couldn’t move quickly without causing the omega more pain.  Bobby and Benny went down either side of the corridor; each accompanied by Jo or Ellen, and opened every cell door as we passed.  Most of the cells revealed partially eaten bodies in various states of decomposition, but a small number still held living occupants.  Once any serious injuries had been treated, those prisoners able to walk joined Dean and me in the center of the group, while a couple of Crowley’s men carried the others.

We were about three turns away from the first guard station when we heard furious shouting behind us, Alastair’s voice still recognizable despite the loss of his nose.  I caught a whiff of his acrid odor as he approached, and my vision instantly went red.  I retained enough awareness to deposit Dean with care into Benny’s arms before dropping the bounds on my true form.  By the time Alastair came into view with several guards, I was shaking with rage.

He stopped in surprise at the sight of us, looking rather worse for wear with a ragged, gaping hole in the center of his face.  “ _You_!  How did . . . how did you find us so quickly?”

“I _warned_ you not to take me lightly, Alastair,” I snarled.  “Your accomplice wasn’t so good at keeping secrets and squealed about what you did.  Like I told you before, Dean and I actually have _friends_ , not just patsies and flunkies who only follow you due to money or fear.  Those friends of ours used their talents to help me find your oh-so-secret hidey-hole before you expected it, and we’re here now to take him _back_!”

“It seems I underestimated you, Sammy.  But then, you did the same too—your _friends_ didn’t stop me from snatching your little pet practically right out from under their noses!” he sneered.  “And are you _sure_ you want it back, now that it could be _used_ goods?  After all, you don’t know how many times, and in how many different ways, I might’ve already _had_ that fine piece of ass—”

I completely disregarded his minions as I charged into Alastair with a roar and slammed him into the wall.  He tried to bring his hands up to choke me, but I grabbed his wrists and snapped them, then started to pound my fists into him with the full force of _hours_ of pent-up anger and fear.  I dimly felt the hex bag grow warm in my pocket as it deflected his powers, and I ignored the pain whenever he managed to strike me back.  The sounds of shotguns blasting, hellhounds baying, vampires and werewolves snarling, and spells being chanted around me as my allies fought off his lackeys held no meaning— _all_ that mattered were the bones smashing and flesh pulping beneath my hands as I sought to destroy the creature that had hurt my _mate_.

What finally brought me back to my senses was the sound of Dean’s voice calling out my name, the feel of his hands grabbing my arms, the smell of his pheromones pervading my nostrils, and the sight of his worried face filling my vision.  I staggered away from Alastair, who fell to the floor, and looked at my lover in confusion for a moment before hauling him into my embrace and burying my face in his neck.

Alastair’s laugh was more of a wet gurgle.  “Please, Sam, don’t stop—that kind of _tickles_!  What do you think damaging this meat suit will accomplish, hmm?  _You_ can’t do anything to _me_!”

“No, but _I_ can, you insufferable git!”  Crowley made a sharp gesture, and Alastair abruptly went silent.  Rowena then joined her son in casting a binding ritual on the other demon, while a couple of the hellhounds circled menacingly.

I raised my head and glanced around.  The guards were either lying immobilized on the ground or being escorted out in cuffs by police officers.  More officers were streaming past under Benny’s supervision to venture further into the building.  A couple of the former captives were being loaded onto gurneys by paramedics, while the rest presumably had already been taken outside.  The whining and heavy weight against the back of my legs indicated Juliet’s presence, but there was no sign of Bobby, either of the Harvelles, or the other hounds and demons Crowley had brought.

Before I could begin to worry, Dean asked in a faint voice, “Can we get outta here now, Sammy?  I ain’t feeling so fucking hot."

I immediately stopped hugging him so tightly, aghast at my thoughtlessness.  “Damn, I’m sorry, Dee!”

I carefully scooped him up again and carried him out the door, since the EMTs sensibly were giving us a wide berth in case I lost control again.  Outside, the street was full of cop cars and ambulances, all with lights whirling and some being loaded with captured guards and injured prisoners, respectively.  To my relief, I saw Bobby sitting on the bumper of one of the ambulances with a paramedic dabbing at a cut on his forehead, while Ellen scolded him soundly and Jo watched in amusement.

I brought Dean over to that ambulance, where another EMT quickly wheeled a gurney over.  Dean sighed in relief as he lay back and let the professionals check him over.  Within a few minutes, he was strapped in and lifted up into the back of the vehicle.

The paramedic who’d been tending Bobby cautiously approached me.  “Sir, do you require medical attention?”

I looked down at my hands, which were covered in blood.  After a quick flex revealed nothing more than sore knuckles, I replied, “Thank you, but I’m fine.  Can I ride with Dean to the hospital, please?”

“Me as well.  I’m the boy’s foster father, and we _ain’t_ leaving him,” Bobby told the young kitsune.

She nodded.  “Of course, sirs!  But there’s only room for one of you in back with the patient and my partner.  The other can ride up front with me.”

“I’ll ride shotgun with you then, miss.  I think having Sam with him will comfort Dean more,” Bobby said before heading towards the passenger door in front.

As I climbed up into the back of the ambulance, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jo waving and pointing at my car.  Taking that as an offer to drive it back to my place, I nodded and tossed her the keys.  I then found a seat where I wouldn’t be underfoot and watched as the other paramedic, whose blue tattoos swirled gracefully up his hands and forearms before disappearing under his uniform, finished checking Dean’s vital statistics and hooked him up to an IV.  Meanwhile his partner shut the doors behind us before climbing into the driver’s seat.

Once we were on our way, I asked, “How—how bad is he?”

The djinni didn’t take his attention away from his patient as he answered, “It’s best to wait until we get to the ER and let the docs have a look at him to get a proper diagnosis, sir.  And we should be there in less than five minutes.  I can tell you that his vitals are fairly strong even under these circumstances, if that makes you feel any better.”

I sighed and took the omega’s hand.  His eyes were closed as he tried to rest, but his face was tight with pain.  Fortunately, the EMT’s estimate was accurate, and we pulled into the loading area of the nearest community-controlled emergency room within a few minutes.  I once again got out of the way as Dean was discharged from the ambulance and swiftly wheeled inside. 

Bobby and I followed him in past the sliding glass doors, where we were stopped by an intake nurse with a clipboard full of forms.  By the time we finished with her questions and all the paperwork, Dean had already been transferred to one of the treatment bays and swarmed by one of the resident physicians and a team of nurses and technicians.  We found ourselves shunted to a lounge area and left to wait for news of his condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dean is now safe from Alastair, though it remains to be seen how serious his injuries truly are. I know many of you were hoping to see Sam completely waste Alastair, but unfortunately he's still a high-level demon, and Sam doesn't have access to the few artifacts that could actually kill him. If it's any consolation though, remember that death would just send Alastair to sleep peacefully in the Empty, whereas leaving him alive means no one in the history of torture's been tortured with torture like the torture he'll be tortured with once he's turned over to Crowley. And as promised, Dean was NOT a helpless damsel waiting to be rescued (even his weakness near the end was intentionally played up on his part in order to calm Sam down)!
> 
> I hope the soulmates thing didn't feel like it came completely out of left field. It wasn't something I'd focused on earlier, but in the back of my mind it WAS one of the reasons why these two took to each other so readily despite the short amount of time and large amount of obstacles. And it felt like a more appropriate way for Juliet to contribute to the rescue than simply having her sniff Dean out from a t-shirt or something. We'll have to see if this newly discovered bond continues to be a factor in what remains of this story . . .
> 
> The reference to "gentleman's sausage" is a euphemism used by the chaps on Top Gear to discuss someone's boy-bits, for those who haven't watched it. We probably don't want to know how exactly Crowley knows that Sam's is "overstuffed" though! :D
> 
> Sorry this chapter is going up a bit on the late side tonight, but I was finishing up the writing on the last chapter of this fic after I got home from my first day at the new job. I'm now going to take a few days off before starting on the next writing project. In the meantime, next week's update should be posted next Monday evening. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos make my day. Oh, and happy Halloween!! What will you ghouls and goblins be dressed up as this year? (I'll be breaking out my steampunk Catwoman costume.)


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a clinical description of Dean's injuries. Again, there's nothing graphic, but please be careful if you think this still might upset you.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been pacing back and forth in the ER’s waiting area, while Bobby tried to distract himself with an old _National Geographic_ , before the doctor who’d been treating Dean finally came to speak with us.  I hurried over and demanded, “How is he?  When can we see him?”

“You are Sam Campbell, yes?  My name is Maritza.  Before I answer any questions, may I ask _how_ Mr. Winchester came by these injuries?”  She eyed my bloody hands and clothes suspiciously.

“That blood ain’t Dean’s—it belongs to the bastard that _did_ this to him!” Bobby retorted.

“That’s correct.  Dean was kidnapped and tortured, and I lost my temper and beat the man who assaulted him once we found him.  You can call Detective Benjamin Lafitte to verify this, though I imagine he’ll be coming here sooner or later to talk to us anyway,” I explained, trying to rein in my temper.  “You can also call Dr. Bela Talbot, Dean’s regular physician, who can attest that I’ve _never_ laid a hand on my boyfriend!”

The pishtaco swallowed at my raised voice but held her ground.  “Your statement corroborates what Mr. Winchester told us, though we _will_ talk to Detective Lafitte to confirm it.  You understand that we _have_ to ask in this kind of situation.”

I took a deep breath.  “I do.  My apologies, but I’m just _very_ worried about Dean after everything that’s happened today.  Please, is he going to be alright?”

She nodded and indicated that I should sit down, then took a seat across from the two of us.  “Fortunately, none of his injuries are life-threatening.  However, they _are_ quite extensive—he’s suffered two cracked ribs on his left side, a fractured radius and ulna in his left arm, three broken fingers on his left hand and one on his right, a fractured zygomatic arch in his right cheek, and a severe sprain to his right ankle.  In addition, he was brutally whipped across his back approximately two dozen times, burned half a dozen times with a cigarette on his left pectoral muscle, cut with a sharp knife approximately a dozen times over his torso, and gouged in his upper back to forcibly remove his chip.  There’s also heavy bruising across his face, chest, and abdomen, as well as around the ligature marks on his wrists and ankles.”

I gasped and fell back in my seat, sickened at the extent of the damage, and Bobby looked equally upset.  I managed to ask, “Was he . . . was he raped?”

Maritza shook her head.  “A physical exam revealed no sign of sexual trauma.  Mr. Winchester declined a rape kit, and he stated that he managed to escape his attacker before anything like that could occur.  He said that the only intercourse he’s had in the past twenty-four hours was consensual sex last night with his boyfriend—I assume he was referring to you.”

As I slumped in relief, she continued, “We set the fractures as best we could and cleaned, stitched, and bandaged the other wounds as needed here before sending him up for X-rays.  He’s in surgery now to properly stabilize the fractures in his cheekbone and arm.  He’ll then have a cast on that arm for several weeks, as well as splints on his broken fingers and a walking boot for the sprained ankle.  I must commend whoever performed first aid on his injuries, as they would’ve been even more difficult to treat without their excellent work.”

“How soon can we see him after he gets out of surgery?” I asked faintly.

“If the detective can verify that you aren’t a risk to the patient, then you can see him once he’s out of recovery and has been taken to a private room.”  The doctor paused for a moment, and a distasteful look came over her face.  “Since you’re apparently Mr. Winchester’s . . . _owner_ as well as his supposed ‘boyfriend,’ we’re required to ask if you want him implanted with a new tag before he leaves.  However, I—”

“ _No_!  As long as there’s no permanent damage, then it’s great that that _thing_ is gone!” I interjected.  “If there was a way to safely remove that damn collar, I’d ask you to do that too!”

“That’s good to hear— _if_ you mean it.  There may be personnel in other departments who support that Food Market place and its abhorrent practices, but you _won’t_ find any in the ER.  We see _too_ many people come here in similar or worse condition than Mr. Winchester’s, and it’s almost always at the hands of their _owners_.”  She stood and left.

Benny showed up about twenty minutes later and, after briefly speaking to Maritza, joined us in the waiting area.  “I wanna let you know that we finished clearing that hellhole out and sent the surviving captives here.  Meanwhile Alastair and his brutes are enjoying the _fine_ hospitality of their own holding cells down at the Security Commission.  How’s Dean doing?”

He whistled after I gave him a quick rundown of the diagnosis.  “ _Damn_!  Now I wish you’d pounded on that piece of shit even more!  Well, he’s gonna get what’s coming to him—between what we found at that warehouse and what we can now legally subpoena from the Commission’s records, Alastair ain’t gonna wriggle outta _these_ charges!  I’ll need to get proper statements from y’all, but that can wait.  Gimme a call when Dean gets outta here and is up for talking.”

Bobby went with him when he left in order to pick me up a change of clothing and bring back my car.  One of the nurses, whose demeanor was noticeably less frosty after Benny’s visit, then sent me over to the family waiting lounge for patients in surgery.  When Bobby returned, I used the restroom in the lounge to wash off the blood and change into clean clothes, feeling glad to be rid of Alastair's stench.  Eventually we were given instructions to head up to the room Dean had been moved to.

Dean was sitting up on the reclined bed and gazing around the room groggily when we came in.  Though the bruising on his face was darker, the swelling was reduced and the blood washed away.  A sealed incision was visible on his right cheek near his temple, his left forearm was in a cast and the whole arm immobilized in a sling, several fingers on both hands were splinted and taped together, and the edges of a gauze bandage could be seen from the neck of his hospital gown.

He grinned widely as soon as he saw us.  “Sammy!  Bobby!  You been waiting ‘round here long?”  His dilated pupils and slightly slurred voice suggested he’d been given some strong painkillers.

“Just a coupla hours, son—no big deal,” Bobby told him gruffly, resting a hand on his good ankle.  “How are you feeling right now?”

I meanwhile leaned over the raised bars on the side of the bed to wrap my arms gingerly around his shoulders.  He immediately scooted over more nimbly than I expected in his condition, though his shifting about dislodged his blanket enough to reveal the walking boot on his right foot.  I took the hint and climbed over the bars, then carefully arranged myself on the right side of the bed so I wouldn’t inadvertently butt into him.  Once I was settled, he pressed himself against my side and rested his head on my shoulder with a contented sigh.

“I am feeling _awesome_ right now, dude!  This morphine drip is my new best friend!” he then replied happily, holding up the button controlling the IV machine.  “You being here makes everything even better!”

I asked quietly, “Do you know how much longer you need to stay?”

“The docs wanna keep me under observation for a few hours, since so much shit got fucked up.  If there ain’t any complications, I should be able to go home after that.  When . . . when those sonsofbitches first grabbed me, I—I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say _that_ anytime soon.”  Now it was _his_ turn to bury his face in my neck.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Dee!  This is partially my fault,” I said miserably.  “I let myself get complacent and underestimated that douchebag!  If I’d been more careful—”

He looked at me in surprise.  “Whaddya talking ‘bout, Sammy?  It ain’t _your_ fault that Alastair’s a sick bastard who tried to take what ain’t his, or that Ruby’s a treacherous bitch that stabbed you in the back.  Turns out he’s like one of those Bond villains that loves the sound of his own voice, and he bragged _all_ ‘bout his ‘cunning plan’—which included dummying up some fake charges later to cover his actions _and_ take away your support.  But _you_ rallied all those people to save my ass before he could put any of that shit into motion—not to mention getting me outta there before he could do even _worse_ than this.  So you don’t got _nothing_ to apologize for!”

“Still, I _trusted_ her, even after she was seen talking to him.  I _should’ve_ suspected she was up to something, knowing how jealous she’s always been of you!” I retorted.

“Believing in your friends ain’t a bad thing, and Ruby not living up to that faith is _her_ fault, not yours.  Stop beating yourself up, boy!” Bobby responded bluntly.  “Dean’s right—you’re the one who organized these folks to figure out where he was and to get him out in just a few hours, not the _days_ it woulda taken the official investigation.  Put the blame for him getting hurt where it _really_ belongs—on Alastair and his cronies!”

“I still can’t believe so many people came out and did so much just for me!” Dean commented.  “I’m gonna hafta find out if demons like pie to make ‘em something to thank ‘em!”

“Crowley certainly seems to, judging by what he orders at the restaurant.  I’m sure he’d gladly take the others’ shares if they don’t,” I replied with a smile.

“Assuming he even tells ‘em and don’t just bogart all the pie for himself!” Bobby pointed out.

We all had a laugh at that, then Dean relaxed and fell asleep in my arms.  I stayed up for a while longer, content to hold him and watch him breathe, before eventually drifting off too.  After about three hours of monitoring without incident, he was discharged and given a list of aftercare instructions, prescriptions for painkillers and antibiotic wound cream, and appointments for follow-up visits and physical therapy.  Once he was dressed in the t-shirt and sweatpants Bobby had brought along with my clothes, we took him home.  Bobby drove, while I cradled Dean in the backseat.

By the time we got back to the apartment, it was late enough, and we were all worn out enough by the day’s events, that we went straight to bed and slept through the night.  I called out of work the next day, not only to care for Dean but also because I couldn’t bear to be separated from him so soon after the abduction.  Since he was still pretty out of it between the anesthesia and the painkillers, and had fairly limited mobility, Bobby took over breakfast and whipped up fried eggs, biscuits, sausage gravy, and lots of coffee.

Dean’s diet for the next week or two had to be limited to soft foods, since the surgery to fix his broken cheekbone involved making an incision inside his mouth as well as the one near his temple.  So after getting him comfortable in the media room, with Bobby there to fetch things for him, I headed to the grocery store to pick up applesauce, pudding cups, pasta mix packets, and other soft meals that would be easy to prepare.  I found myself moving slower than expected, as the bruises I’d taken in my fight with Alastair had stiffened up.

Dean turned out to be quite popular that afternoon.  His first visitor was Charlie, who after determining for herself that he was in one piece, announced that since Bobby couldn’t stay for more than a couple of days this time, she’d come over to spend the day with Dean while I was at work until he was able to go back to work himself.  He’d been ordered by his doctors—and enforced by Ellen—to spend at least two weeks at home resting before even considering starting to resume his normal activities.  Charlie offered to keep him company, help him with the things he’d have difficulty doing for himself right now, and accompany him outside when he was feeling up to it. 

Before she left, Crowley, Rowena, and Juliet came by to see how Dean was doing.  Rowena offered him replacements for the _gris-gris_ bag and repellant spray taken from him, as well as a salve that she swore would help his wounds heal even better than the cream the hospital had prescribed, and with minimal scarring to boot.  Crowley entertained him with increasingly over-the-top suggestions for the punishments Alastair would receive once Crowley got his hands on him.  Juliet simply climbed onto the couch next to him and laid her head on his lap throughout the conversation, and her master offered to bring her over for companionship during the workday as well.

Lenore called before she left the office, saying she’d wait a day or two before coming by to not tire him out but wanted to talk to him to make sure he was alright.  She passed on the regards of my coworkers for his swift recovery and made him laugh with the description of the betting pool started as to what would happen to Ruby.

Last to show up was Benny, who arrived just before dinner.  He first took our official statements, which was the first time each of us heard the other’s side of the story in detail, since we hadn’t really talked about it yet.  He then informed us about the progress of the case, which was currently focusing on interrogating the guards the police had arrested and processing the mounds of evidence they’d collected at the warehouse.  Alastair was making all sorts of demands, including for an undamaged meat suit, but so far was being ignored—particularly since he’d have to get Crowley’s approval for a new vessel.  Before leaving, Benny promised to try to return Baby and Dean’s other possessions as soon as he could.

Dean went to bed early that night, which wasn’t unexpected given his condition.  I was equally unsurprised to be awoken a few hours after I’d gone to bed myself by him writhing and crying out in the throes of a nightmare.  I quickly sat up and pulled him into my arms, where I gently shook him awake and then soothed him, rocking, caressing, and murmuring comfortingly until he could speak.

He eventually raised his tear-streaked face and rubbed his eyes.  “ _Fuck_!  I guess I shoulda expected this kinda shit to happen, huh?  Damn, I _hate_ this!”

I pushed his hands away and carefully wiped away the tears with a corner of the sheet.  “You were too exhausted last night, and too doped up from what they gave you at the hospital, for _anything_ to disturb your rest, not even your own subconscious, but I knew that wouldn’t last.  What Alastair did to you was terrible, and it can’t help but dredge up memories of what your father inflicted on you as well.”

He heaved a sigh.  “Yeah, I get that.  I’m just fucking _tired_ of feeling like this, man!  I’ve had to put with this shit for over ten goddamn _years_.  These past few months with you has been the only time I’ve really had any peace from the nightmares, panic attacks, and the rest of that crap, from having to drink myself to sleep or keep anyone from getting close.  I _don’t_ wanna go back to how I was before!”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you through this, Dee.  But I _really_ think this is more than we can handle ourselves.  Your original traumatic experiences were hard enough for you to deal with, and you know I respect how well you managed to cope regardless.  And now to add on what happened yesterday . . .  I believe talking to a professional will be the best thing for you.”  I rubbed his back supportively as I spoke.

He stiffened in my arms but didn’t pull away.  “I know you mean well, Sammy, so I ain’t mad at you.  But I talked to practically every shrink in the fucking phone book after the coma, and they didn’t do a _goddamn_ thing to help!  Which is why I _stopped_ as soon as I turned eighteen and could decide for myself.  So why the _hell_ would I wanna put myself through that bullshit all over again?”

“Like I told you the last time this came up, a lot’s changed in your life since then.  Maybe you weren’t ready to come to grips with this properly when you were younger, but you might be now,” I pointed out.  “But this is your decision to make, baby.”

“And my fucking decision right now is to go back to fucking sleep.”  He then rolled over to prevent further discussion. 

Dean was fortunately in a better mood when he got up the next morning.  He was also less sore and decided to switch from Percocet to the prescription-strength ibuprofen he’d been given to manage the remaining pain.  Jo came by that afternoon to check up on him—and report back to Ellen on his progress.  She brought a care package the kitchen staff had put together, including a lemon meringue pie made by Elizabeth, Benny’s great-granddaughter and one of Dean’s sous chefs.

While Jo was there to watch over the omega, I drove Bobby to the airport to catch a flight back to Sioux Falls.  As much as he wanted to stay, he’d been in the middle of preparing for a hunt with a very specific timeline when he joined us for the rescue.  If he didn’t return right away, the spirit would drop several bodies before disappearing for another year, and the other hunters he might’ve relied on to take care of it were either injured or busy with their own cases.  Before dropping him off, I promised Bobby that we’d call or text with regular progress reports until Dean was back on his feet.

I was once again woken up in the middle of the night by Dean shouting his way out of another nightmare.  This appeared to be a particularly bad one, and it took quite a while to calm him down.  I then had to change some of his bandages and fetch him additional painkillers, since his thrashing about had reopened a couple of the cuts and strained his cracked ribs.

Once I returned to bed, I took him in his arms and cautiously asked, “Do you want to talk about this dream?  Was it . . . was it Alastair or John this time?”

He was quiet for so long that I thought at first he wasn’t going to answer.  “It—it was fucking _both_.  The memories got . . . jumbled up or something.  Sometimes it was Alastair in the motel room or John in the warehouse . . . sometimes they were both there, beating and cutting and—and even worse shit . . .”

“Oh, Dee . . .”  I stroked his hair consolingly.

“The _worst_ part . . . what finally woke me up, was the sonofabitch _claiming_ me.”  He looked up and met my eyes.  “ _That’s_ what I was most of afraid of when Alastair had me—more than the pain or—or even being raped, if he’d gotten that far.  Guess I was just lucky that the sadistic motherfucker wanted me _broken_ first, wanted me to _beg_ him for it.”

I growled and had to struggle to push down the sudden flare of temper.  “I should’ve ripped that cocksucker _apart_!”

Dean snorted in tired amusement.  “You still did a pretty good job of fucking him up, dude—and he wasn’t happy ‘bout what _I_ did to him either!  I also figure that Crowley’s got something _epically_ nasty planned for when the assclown gets turned over to him after the trial.  Like Benny said, he’s getting what’s coming to him.”

I had to wait a moment until I was calmer before responding.  “Always remember that you _did_ stop him, Dean.  You bit the fucker’s _nose_ off just for trying to sniff you, so just imagine how badly you would’ve jacked him up if he’d been foolish enough to go for _more_!  You _weren’t_ helpless, you fought him off, and you escaped that cell all on your own.  You were—no, are _badass_!”

“Thanks, Sammy.  I don’t think it’s gonna be so easy to convince my hindbrain though,” he said with a shrug.

I knew better than to push too much, so I changed the subject a bit.  “One thing I _was_ wondering about earlier, Dee . . . why _did_ you believe that text?  Not that I’m blaming you at _all_ for what happened!  But why would you want to _celebrate_ something like that?”

He looked at me in honest surprise.  “Why wouldn’t I?  Being with you these past four months has been the _best_ time of my whole damn life, dude.  Obviously I ain’t crazy ‘bout how it started, but even those first coupla months were better than anything I had before.  So when I got the message, yeah, I thought us being together for this long, despite all the shit we’ve had to go through, _was_ worth making a big deal ‘bout.  Don’t you?”

“Of _course_!  You’re the best thing that’s _ever_ happened to me!  I just thought that . . . well, with how upset you were in the beginning, being captured and sold at the Market and everything else, that it wasn’t exactly a _happy_ memory for you,” I explained.

“Dumbass!  Maybe you need to stop thinking so much,” he accused fondly and then kissed me.

I kissed back enthusiastically, though I took care not to allow any saliva to transfer, and then replied, “You’re probably right!  Oh, there was something kind of . . . _major_ that Crowley told me when we were in the warehouse.  I didn’t have a chance to tell you before because you were either still loopy from the pain meds or busy with guests.”

He gave me a curious glance.  “What is it?  Nothing bad, I hope!”

“No, definitely not!  It came up when we were trying figure out the best way to find you in there.  He cast some kind of spell because hellhounds need a soul link to track someone, and what he did made the one between _us_ visible to them.  He said . . . he said we were _soulmates_.”

His expression turned incredulous.  “What the hell does that even _mean_ , outside of sappy romance novels?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet.  I’ve tried to look it up in the past day or two, but I haven’t found much that seems reliable in the books we have here,” I admitted.  “The little bit I did uncover suggested that this is part of why we’ve become so close so quickly, despite all the complications we’ve had.  Which is what Crowley told me as well.  I’ll have to research more to figure out what else it might signify.”

“Huh!  _That’s_ certainly something to consider!” he said, shaking his head in wonder.  He lay quietly for a while, apparently deep in thought, before yawning and going back to sleep.

Sunday morning I prepared instant oatmeal and fruit salad for breakfast, since that was within my limited cooking skills.  Dean was feeling a bit stir-crazy, so I helped him out onto the terrace once we got dressed.  After having to threaten to tie him to his chair, I ended up weeding several of the planters under his supervision.  Lunch was gourmet mac ‘n cheese reheated from the care package, and then we moved to the media room for a marathon of _Seven Samurai_ , _The Magnificent Seven_ , and a few episodes of _Samurai 7_.

Dean was sitting at the breakfast bar afterwards, watching me unpack the bags from our Mexican takeout order, when he suddenly announced, “You're right.”

I smirked at him.  “I know _that_ , but what in particular am I right about this time?”

He flipped me off with a grin, and then his face sobered.  “I’m talking ‘bout getting help for dealing with all this shit, both what just happened and in the past.  You're right—I ain't gonna get over this kinda fucked-up crap on my own, and it ain't fair to dump it on your shoulders constantly either.”

“It's not that I _mind_ helping you out, Dee, if I thought it would be enough.  You've come so far since I've known you, but I think you need more than I can give you, or what we can do together, to fully recover,” I said.  “And I'm really proud that you're willing to recognize that.”

He grimaced.  “This ain’t exactly easy for me!  I didn’t have good experiences with shrinks back then, and after ditching the last one I swore I wouldn’t put up with their bullshit ever again.  But like you said, things are different now—I got you and a life I’m really happy with, and I know myself better now.  So maybe I’m finally ready to fix things properly.”

“I’ll help you find a therapist that you feel comfortable with.”  I came around the island and embraced him.  “And I’m _always_ here for you.  We’ve gotten through everything else together, and this won’t be any different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's now safely back home and on the road to recovery. Admitting that he needs more help than he or Sam can do themselves is a huge step in his healing properly. And he still has the support of all his friends and of course Sam to help him through this.
> 
> This should be the last of anything unpleasant in this story. However, I have been wondering about how I have this fic billed. I think the rating and the tags are pretty accurate and comprehensive (though please let me know if you feel a tag should be added), but I am concerned if the archive warnings should be adjusted. Currently this story is listed as No Archive Warnings Apply. There has been violence, but it's been canon-typical levels and not graphic. There have also been references to rape and CSA, but that happened in the past, not during the course of the story. So do you think the current warning level is still appropriate, or should it be changed to Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings instead?
> 
> Only two more chapters to go! The story is completed, and the next update will be posted next Monday evening. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	41. Chapter 41

“Are you _sure_ you’re ready for this?” I asked anxiously.  “The doctor said you can stay home another week if you—”

“Dude, I’ll be _fine_ ,” Dean interrupted.  “Trust me, I’m gonna take it easy.  It ain’t like I can do much besides supervise until the splints and cast come off anyways.  Plus most of my damn staff’s already threatened to rat me out to Ellen if I try to overdo it, and _she’s_ the scariest mother hen in the fucking city!  I’m only gonna be there for six hours tops—Charlie’s dropping me off, and then Jo’s gonna bring me home before she goes to class.  And there’s plenty of people I can get a ride from if I hafta call it quits early.”

“I know, I know.  Still . . . it hasn’t been all _that_ long . . .”

“It’s been long fucking enough!  Besides doctors’ visits, I ain’t left the apartment in the past two weeks ‘cept for a coupla times, and I need to get _out_!”  He leveled a shrewd stare at me.  “There ain’t no need for the overprotective bullshit, Sam—though I know this recent shit’s sent your alpha instincts into overdrive again.  I’m gonna be with people we trust the whole time, and I got my gun, mojo bag, repellant spray, panic button, _and_ my new badass cane with me.  Plus Alastair and his douchebag buddies are still locked up.  _Nothing_ bad is gonna happen!”

Dean was looking significantly better after two weeks of rest at home, I had to admit.  The various bruises had faded by now, and his complexion was back to its normal tone.  The majority of the cuts and burns on his torso were completely healed, and most didn’t leave a scar thanks to Rowena’s salve.  The walking boot on his ankle would be replaced with a simple brace in about a week, and the splints on his fingers would most likely come off a week after that, though the cast on his arm would require an additional two to four weeks longer, as would his cracked ribs to heal.  He’d already started seeing physical therapists for strengthening and range-of-motion exercises for his fingers, forearm, and ankle.

Improvements to his mental and emotional health were progressing more slowly.  He’d woken up with nightmares twice more in the first week, as well as had a near panic attack on an excursion to the mini-mall downstairs with Charlie when a pushy alpha tried hitting on him and wouldn’t back down.  Shortly after that though, he began weekly counseling with Dr. Mia Vallens, a shapeshifter therapist who’d been recommended to us by Dr. Talbot of all people.  She and Dean seem to hit it off fairly well, and he said their sessions so far were productive.  He’d only had one nightmare in the past week, which lent credence to their efficacy.  I of course was thrilled that he’d followed through with getting professional help and was doing my best to be supportive.

We couldn’t have gotten through these past couple of weeks so well if it hadn’t been for the support of our friends.  As promised, Charlie stayed with Dean during the day while I was at work, keeping him in good spirits and preventing him from straining himself.  She sometimes brought one of her gaming buddies with her, a precocious kid named Kevin whose goals were to get into Princeton and eventually become the first Asian-American president of the United States.  Besides loaning Juliet out to keep Dean company, Crowley also put surreptitious guards on the apartment and gave him a silver-headed cane with an iron-banded shaft of _palo santo_ wood, which concealed a slender sword blade.  Benny stopped by regularly to give us reports on the progress of the case against Alastair and got Dean’s car and other possessions returned relatively quickly.  And Ellen and Jo took turns bringing food from the restaurant so that we didn’t have to live on takeout while he recuperated.

Dean wanted to throw a dinner party for everyone who’d helped with his rescue and recovery, but that would have to wait until the splints and maybe the cast came off.  In the meantime, we took as many of them as we could out to dinner at Harvelle’s this past weekend.  In addition, I gave each of Crowley’s men a monetary gift, and Dean promised remuneration in pastry form once he was able to cook again—which surprisingly they were just as excited about as the checks.  He also planned to make treats for Juliet and the other hellhounds as soon as he could, and he’d been pampering her like a princess since his return.

I sighed, realizing that I wasn’t going to win.  “Alright, but call or text me to let me know how you’re doing.  I guess I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Try not to freak out too much, man—you’re too young to give yourself worry lines!”  He gave me a kiss and then shoved me in the direction of the door.  “Now get outta here before you’re late!”

Once I got to work, I greeted my new executive assistant, a dark-haired werewolf in her mid-twenties named Madison, before heading into my office.  She’d been working for me for less than week but had already proved to be smart, competent, and witty.  I made it clear though from the beginning that I was taken, adding a couple pictures of Dean to my desk and bringing him up frequently in conversation, to prevent _any_ chance of similar problems to what I’d had with Ruby.  Ruby herself was still being held in one of the cells at the Security Commission while awaiting trial for her involvement in Dean’s kidnapping, and rumor had it that Crowley planned to revoke her topside pass and send her back to Hell for some “reeducation.”

At a little after two o’clock, I gathered together the documentation I’d collected over the past week and a half.  During my free time, I’d been going through the files Ash had hacked from Alastair’s computer, sometimes with his or Meg’s help when I needed more information.  Dean thought I was doing this to help Benny’s investigation, and I hadn’t disabused him of this notion yet.  I didn’t want to get his hopes up in case my plan didn’t work out, while if it did, the truth would make for a wonderful surprise.

Once everything was organized to my satisfaction, I took a taxi to the imposing office building that housed several of the Commissions and was the seat of the Council itself.  After going through the security check, I rode the elevator up to the top floor, where the chamber that the Council met in for hearings and the like resided.  As requested, I arrived fifteen minutes early and planned to use the time to review my arguments.  Unexpectedly, the antechamber to which I’d been directed to wait in held a number of familiar faces. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” I asked in astonishment.

Meg stepped forward with a smirk.  “Helping you out, you big dummy!  You might have your honey bunny fooled, but remember that I know _all_ about what you’ve been researching recently.  Wasn’t too hard to figure out what you’re after, and that you’d need _more_ in order to succeed.  So I invited a few friends to this shindig.”

“The skank is right, despite her _appalling_ track record for employers,” Crowley added.  “You’re going to need us to back you up and corroborate your statements.  Even if your cunning plan works out, the Council will still require people to vouch for Dean’s suitability regardless.  So here we are.  And you’re welcome.”

“I had to do the same when I went to bat here for Charlie,” Lenore put in.  “Which _you_ should know all about, since you’re one of the people who helped me with that back then!”

My eyes felt a bit misty.  “Thank you all for coming!  You’ve already done _so_ much for the two of us, so to show up _here_ as well . . . it means a _lot_.  Dean . . . he doesn’t know any of you are here though , right?”

Ellen snorted.  “Please, give us some credit, kid!  I’ve been coming up with cover stories for hunters for almost as long as that boy’s been alive, so it wasn’t hard to give him an excuse ‘bout why I had to step out for a while.  Your secret’s still safe—just make sure the big reveal makes it up to him!”

“And you better give us _all_ the juicy details after, to make it worth having to put up with _this_ asshole!”  Meg sneered at Crowley.  “I gotta say, Sam, your taste in friends leaves something to be desired in this case.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.  “Bite me, bitch.  If it weren’t for the help you’ve already offered Moose and Squirrel, you’d be joining Ruby and the rest of your ilk on my shit list.  But _please_ , keep tempting me!”

“Both of you play nice now.  We’re here for our friends, not to air our dirty laundry,” Benny admonished from where he was lounging in the waiting area.  “If not, I’m sure Ms. Ellen here will be glad to put _both_ of you in time-out!”

“You got that right!”  Ellen then looked over at me.  “How are you doing, Sam?  You ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be . . . though of course I’m still nervous,” I admitted.  “There’s _so_ much riding on this meeting, and there’s only so much that I can control.”

“We’ll leave ye alone then to gather your thoughts.  Come along now!”  Rowena then shooed the others to the waiting area, leaving me alone with my papers at one of the small tables near the hospitality station.

A clerk opened the double doors at the far end of the antechamber about ten minutes later.  The room we were ushered into was spacious, with one wall composed entirely of windows.  A low dais ran along another wall, upon which sat a long tribunal set with seven chairs and brass plaques with each Commission’s names emblazoned on them.  A podium where one or two speakers could stand was placed facing the dais, with two tables, each with a couple of chairs, a little behind and to either side of the podium.  Beyond that was a low railing and then seating for witnesses and other interested parties.

I placed my file folders on one of the tables and sat, while the others settled in behind the railing.  After a few minutes of waiting, a door behind the tribunal opened, and six individuals walked in and claimed their places, leaving the seat for the Security Commission vacant.  The Council members were a mix of races: vampire, djinn, shapeshifter, wraith, werewolf, and witch.

“Samuel Campbell with a petition to place before the Council,” the clerk announced before sitting at a small desk by the far side of the dais.

I stood and approached the podium, placing one file on top.  “Honored Council members, thank you for allowing me to speak before you today.  However, what I’m here to present is a _proposal_ , not a petition.

“As you are aware, the head of the Security Commission is currently in custody and under inquiry for his unlawful actions.  This has come about because Alastair kidnapped and assaulted one Dean Winchester, a human I had purchased from the Food Market approximately four and a half months ago.  In the course of tracing and retrieving my property, my colleagues and I discovered a secret location where Alastair and his subordinates imprisoned and tortured other illegally obtained captives.  That site and all the evidence inside have been seized by the police force under community control, and their investigation will surely lead to the uncovering of additional information about his activities.”

I continued, “Now I understand that Dean is not a member of our community, and that as chattel acquired through the Market, he has very little rights.  But _I_ do, and I paid a _sizable_ sum of money to obtain him, including all of the privileges and protections inherent in purchasing gold-tier ownership.  By seizing and inflicting extensive injuries on this valuable asset _without_ my permission, Alastair has broken our laws, and I fully expect that after a proper investigation and trial, he will be punished appropriately.

“However, this _doesn’t_ address the losses that I and the others similarly affected in the community incurred.  While searching for Dean, I managed to gain access to _all_ of Alastair’s hidden files, not just the ones the police have found so far.  This includes records of well over a hundred members who’ve had their human possessions damaged or even destroyed over the course of his tenure, whether they were taken illicitly or under the flimsiest of pretexts.  If I were to file a class-action lawsuit on their behalf, the reparations for all those people, once you factor in purchase price, costs to maintain their property before confiscation, costs to recover and repair their property if possible, restitution for loss of service if the property was permanently impaired or worse, and of course compensation for pain and suffering, adjusted for inflation over the years where appropriate . . . needless to say, the amount would be _quite_ substantial.”  I disliked referring to Dean and the other unfortunates as mere possessions, like that asshat Briggs from the Market had done, but I had to play to the prejudices of most of the Council members.

“Now we _could_ discuss exactly how detrimental a suit like this could be, to not only Alastair and his underlings but also to the Security Commission and possibly even the Council itself, since it can be argued that both turned a blind eye and allowed Alastair to go unchecked for so long, and how these negative effects could be much more than simply monetary.  Or we can cut straight to what I _really_ want.”  I gave the tribunal a sharp smile.

“Mr. Campbell, are you trying to _blackmail_ us?”  The speaker was the head of Supply Chain, a tall, attractive vampire named Luther.

“Consider it as _negotiations_ instead,” I replied smoothly.  “Let me be frank.  I don’t need the money—I make more than enough to support both myself and Dean quite comfortably.  Nor is my goal to cause harm to the Council or any of its Commissions, which are vitals parts of our community.  However, I _am_ prepared to go through with this case—I have the necessary documents already drawn up, including subpoenas to legally obtain the information I’d found by more . . . _unorthodox_ methods earlier—if that’s what it takes to truly get justice.  But this _isn’t_ my preferred method of recourse.”

“And what _would_ your choice be then?” Salvatore Lassiter, the head of Publicity, asked with an amused smile.  He was the only Councilor who knew me, thanks to his younger brother.

“Here is my proposed resolution to this problem.  First, Dean and _all_ the other living victims of Alastair’s atrocities will be granted their freedom, including removal of collars and chips, and instated as full members of the community.  Second, the owners of those who _didn’t_ survive will be compensated for the purchase prices of their lost assets.  Lastly, the Food Market and its associates will be _properly_ investigated for allegations of negligence in not properly vetting their merchandise before sale, as I explained in the complaint I filed weeks ago, and for suspicions of criminal activities of their own, such as bribing Alastair and his lackeys to overlook their failings.”  I knew that the Council wouldn’t assent to my requests in their entirety, but asking for more than you expected to get was a standard bargaining tactic.

“Do you have documentation to support these claims?” Jennifer O’Brien, the supercilious djinni in charge of Legal Affairs, demanded.

I nodded and indicated the files on the table.  “I do—lists of the victims’ names, their owners’ information, dates of abduction, brief descriptions of what was done to them, and their condition afterward.  Fortunately for us, Alastair was like other white-eyed demons in keeping detailed records.  His financial statements include payoffs from individuals connected to the Market, which should be enough to warrant looking into their files.”

“This is _highly_ irregular!” Olivette, the head of Personnel Management and Rowena’s main rival, complained.  “Those individuals brought to our attention to be potentially freed have to prove themselves trustworthy enough over the course of _years_.  But by your own admission, you’ve only owned this _Dean_ for a few months!”

“Yes, Dean hasn’t been with me for very long, especially compared to those coming before the Council via the standard methods.  But even this short amount of time has been enough to demonstrate that he’s _amply_ suited to become a legitimate part of our community,” I countered.  “He’s been able to leave our home whenever he wants and communicate with whomever he wants for over two months now, and not _once_ has he tried to expose or harm us.  Before that, when I was keeping him more restricted, he had multiple opportunities to try to call for help or escape but didn’t take advantage of them.  Even when his foster father—whose identity you’re _well_ aware of—showed up in an attempt to rescue him, Dean’s response wasn’t to accept his aid but to convince him that we—the community in general and me in particular—didn’t deserve to be persecuted by hunters.  He has shown repeatedly that he _wants_ to be here, to be part of the life we’ve built.  And this is _entirely_ of his own free will, not because I’ve threatened or brainwashed him in any fashion.”

I gestured to those sitting behind me.  “With me today are several well-respected members of our community, including a high-level administrator in the Security Commission, the leader of one of the largest nests in the city, the head of an influential coven, and . . . well, we all know who Crowley _really_ is.  They are here to testify on Dean’s behalf on how he’s not only acclimated to but also _embraced_ this community, how he’s accepted the various supernatural creatures he’s met here, made numerous friends among us, and created both a home and a livelihood that are integrally meshed with our society.”

I then sat down to allow the others to come up to the podium one by one.  They each explained how they first met Dean, how their relationship with him developed, and how he contributed to their lives.  Lenore discussed how he hadn’t let his trepidation over being near a vampire stop him from getting to know her, and how she and Charlie showed him he could be more than a prisoner.  Benny brought up how Dean’s clear feelings for me had assuaged his own misgivings regarding Bobby and my safety, and how Dean hadn’t let his negative experiences, even the most recent one, color his view of the community as a whole.  Crowley mentioned how he’d never let the typical prejudices against demons influence their interactions and jokingly complained about how he was trying to steal Juliet away.  Ellen explained how well he’d integrated with her diverse mix of employees, and how he tried to factor the varied needs of the community into his work.  And so on.

Karla Forman, the pretty wraith in charge of Finance, cleared her throat after the last of my companions resumed their seat.  “This young man _does_ appear to be an ideal candidate to be released from the collar and inducted into our community . . . in perhaps a year or two.  But we simply _can’t_ do so after such a short time!  We have rules and procedures in place for a reason, and circumventing them like this could set a _dangerous_ example.”

“These are unusual circumstances, so your decision might not establish a precedent for future cases,” I pointed out.  “And even if it does, is that necessarily a bad thing?  Why should a person who’s _already_ proven their worth have to wait for so long?  ‘That’s the way we’ve always done it’ is _not_ a valid justification.  Our laws and customs need to be able to grow and _adapt_ , just like everything else, if our community is to continue to thrive.”

“There’s another important point to consider.  If I may?”  Crowley walked to the podium without waiting for a response.  “The fact of the matter is, you _have_ to free Dean Winchester.  If you don’t, you lot will be in violation of Article 15.28.103 of our very own bylaws.”

He paused and rolled his eyes at the blank stares he received.  “Honestly, do I have to do _everything_ around here?”  He waved a hand, and an open tome appeared in front of the head of Legal Affairs.

The djinni ran a finger down the page to the referenced section and then looked up in surprise.  “You’re trying to invoke the True Mate clause?”

“I’m not _attempting_ anything, madam,” he retorted.  “The police report that Detective Lafitte filed regarding Dean’s abduction, which included signed statements from yours truly among others, _clearly_ described how in the course of his liberation, I _unequivocally_ demonstrated that he and Sam are, in fact, soulmates.  The True Mate clause, as you call it, explicitly states that _nothing_ can be allowed to stand in the way of an alpha claiming his proven true mate, not even preexisting bonds or consanguinity.  However, our laws _also_ claim that property acquired through the Food Market or similar channels have _no_ legal rights, including the right to marry.

“It appears you have exactly _two_ means of reconciling this conflict available to you.  Either you agree to grant Dean and _all_ those purchased from the Market some level of legal privileges within our rules, which opens up a _lovely_ can of worms.  _Or_ you simply give the man his bloody freedom, so that he and Jolly Green here can mate and live happily ever after.  And we _all_ know which option you’re going to choose.”  Crowley crossed his arms and smirked.

Sal regarded me carefully.  “Is this true, Sam?”

“I wasn’t aware of the clause Crowley’s citing before this, or else I would’ve brought it up myself.  Nor did either of us realize we were soulmates prior to the rescue.  But yes, I _do_ want to make Dean my mate once he’s a free man.  I won’t do it before then, and not simply because of any legal impediment—I refuse to ask something so momentous of him while he’s unable to truly give his consent,” I explained.

“You’ve certainly given us quite a bit to ponder over, Mr. Campbell.  We need some time now to deliberate before coming to a decision.  You and your witnesses may retire to the antechamber to wait until then,” Luther said, and then all of the Council members rose and retreated through the door they’d entered from.

I handed a copy of the documentation I’d brought to the clerk, who gave me a receipt before filing in after the Councilors.  As instructed, we then returned to the antechamber, where we discovered coffee, tea, pastries, and other refreshments had been laid out.  We each filled our cups and plates and took our seats at a couple of the small tables nearby.

“I haven’t heard the True Mate clause used in a dog’s age!  How _clever_ of ye to remember it, Fergus!”  The glance Rowena gave her son before sipping her tea was almost fond.

“Hello, former crossroads demon here?  Knowing the fine print _is_ part of the job description,” Crowley pointed out smugly.  “I’ll give you a pass for missing it this time, Moose, since presumably you’ve been preoccupied lately with keeping Squirrel from stubbing a toe.  But I won’t be around to save your arse _all_ the time!”

“I really appreciate this, man!  I don’t know how the Council will rule on the rest of what I asked for, but you’ve more or less guaranteed Dean’s freedom,” I replied gratefully. 

“It’s too bad the world outside of communities like ours don’t have similar laws though,” Lenore commented.  “It would save people a lot of heartbreak!”

“’Cept that most of ‘em don’t believe in souls, let alone soulmates!  And they don’t have the means to _prove_ if someone’s their true mate, since they don’t believe in magic neither,” Benny said.  “Hell, it ain’t like even _we_ use this law all that much, since most of us didn’t remember it.  True mates are a rare thing, so you and Dean should count yourselves lucky that you found each other.”

I nodded.  “I do.  And I want to thank you all for everything you’ve done to help get us here.”

“Well shucks, you’re gonna make a girl blush!  And now that Dean getting sprung is pretty much a done deal, what are you thinking for the ceremony?  Come on, us poor single folk have to live vicariously through mushy saps like you two!” Meg implored.

The conversation then turned to weddings, with everyone offering suggestions, reminiscing about the better ceremonies they’d seen, and regaling us with horror stories about the worst.  Lenore and Ellen in particular got the third degree as the only married (or formerly married) folk there.  This kept us occupied for over an hour, with people taking turns topping off everyone’s cups or passing around snacks.

Eventually the clerk opened the double doors again and beckoned us inside.  We filed in and resumed our previous spots, then waited a couple of minutes for the Council members to come out and take their places.  Once everyone was seated, I moved to stand behind the podium and steeled myself for their verdict.

“After much discussion, the Council has decided to accede to _some_ of your . . . proposal,” Julian Duval, the werewolf who ran the Public Works Commission, stated.  “We agree to the immediate release of one Dean Winchester and his subsequent initiation as a member of our community.  As to the other surviving victims, we cannot simply let them go en masse—some may not be suitable, or their owners may be unwilling to give them up.  So we will review them on a case-by-case basis to determine if they warrant similar treatment.

“As for the deceased victims, as well as those who cannot be manumitted, we will grant _some_ reparations.  A share of any funds seized as a result of illegal activities uncovered during the current investigation will be apportioned among those owners whose property was damaged or destroyed as a result of said activities.

“Since much of our resources are presently being allocated to the inquiry into the alleged criminal deeds of the former head of the Security Commission, we cannot commit to an in-depth examination of the Food Market based solely on your accusations.  However, should the ongoing investigation reveal evidence of possible illicit actions by _any_ other organization, including another Commission or the Market, rest assured that they _will_ be looked into thoroughly,” he concluded.

“Are you satisfied with our ruling, Mr. Campbell?” Olivette asked.

I nodded mutely.  I’d known that the Council wouldn’t meet all of my requests, but I hadn’t expected them to agree to as much as they did.  Of course, I was pleased that the others who’d suffered at Alastair’s hands would receive some measure of justice, and I hoped that his fall would in turn expose enough damning information to bring down the Market as well in time.  But what had me truly speechless was the thrilling realization that I’d succeeded at my ultimate goal, that Dean would be freed _now_ instead of in several years’ time.

“The records will indicate that he agreed,” the clerk announced.  “The Council is now adjourned.  Mr. Campbell, please remain afterwards to take care of the necessary paperwork.  Everyone else is asked to please move into the antechamber.”

I barely noticed the Councilors’ departure while I signed the manumission documents and received the means to unlock Dean’s collar.  I remained in a joyful daze as I exited the meeting room and was immediately swarmed by my excited friends.  As I absently responded to their congratulations, I finally allowed myself to start planning my next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's really done it--he managed to get Dean his freedom now, as opposed to after however many years of following the community's rules. He used his badass lawyer skills, along with the help of his friends, to pull some good from the terrible experiences they just endured--and that good included getting some help for Alastair's other victims too. Next is revealing this to Dean and seeing how this affects the future of their relationship . . .
> 
> True mates is of course a common trope within the overall A/B/O dynamics, and it's often tied into the concept of soulmates. I imagine it's especially common in SPN fanfic, since Sam and Dean being soulmates is part of canon, not simply fan headcanon. Though in a world that doesn't have a non-magical way to determine one's true mate (like their name appearing on your body or other methods seen in fanfic), true mates or soulmates as a legit thing and not just a fantasy is limited to those people who do have magic, like the supernatural communities. Mating in general is handled a little differently here too, as Sam's conversation with his friends might've indicated. Most A/B/O stories focus on the mating bite and little else, but here it's tied into the same legal and civil ceremonies as what we're used to for marriage. This is especially true since technically mating is only between alphas and omegas, while marriage is for all types of couples.
> 
> An idea literally just occurred to me as I was preparing this chapter for posting. This story has been entirely seen from Sam's POV, which has been a necessary part of how it's unfolded--certain plot points wouldn't have had the same dramatic effect if we knew more than he did. But now that this story is nearly over, would you be interested in a version told from Dean's POV, which would then allow you to learn details that we haven't seen before about events like Dean's capture by the Food Market or his abduction by Alastair, as well as his thoughts and feelings throughout? If there is interest in this idea, I don't know how soon it would happen, since the sequel dealing with loose threads like Dean's brother and father and the fate of the Market would probably come first.
> 
> The final chapter will be posted next Monday evening. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day. :)


	42. Chapter 42

When I walked into the kitchen at Harvelle’s the following afternoon, it was bustling like always, with cooks and dishwashers working diligently at their stations and porters and servers rushing in and out.  Dean was ensconced in a corner near both the prep and cooking stations, seated in a chair from the dining room with his right foot propped up on a stool.  Various cooks brought him samples to taste, while others called out questions and waited for his answers.  When he tried to get out of his chair to check something out, he was promptly whacked on his uninjured arm with a wooden spoon by a frowning Elizabeth, and he sat back down with a pout.

His eyebrows rose when he saw me approach.  “Whatcha doing here, Sam?  Ain’t it a bit early for you to be outta work?”

“I’m here to pick you up because I have plans for us for this evening, and I couldn’t wait until later,” I told him.  “That’s why I went into the office so early this morning.”

“I was wondering ‘bout that.  I suppose no one will mind me leaving now, though lemme let Lizzie and Ellen know first.  I’ll meet you in the break room,” he replied.

After Dean informed the others and changed out of his chef’s coat, and I waved away the offer to wrap up some food for us, I walked him out to my car.  He shrugged me off when I tried to take his arm, leaving me to hover anxiously until he reached the passenger door.  Truth be told, he was moving fairly nimbly even with the walking boot and cane, but my instincts still yammered at me to scoop him up and carry him.  Fortunately he’d been mostly indulgent with my protective tendencies so far over the past couple of weeks.

At the apartment, I turned to him as soon as we were inside and said, “Close your eyes!”

He looked at me inquiringly.  “What’s going on, man?  I’m pretty sure I ain’t forgetting any holidays or anniversaries, so what’s the big deal?”

“You’ll find out when everything’s ready.  But until then, I don’t want you to see anything that might spoil the surprise.  So _please_ keep your eyes closed until I say?” I wheedled.

“Okay, okay!  Just don’t steer me into any walls!”  He shut his eyes and held out his hand.

I carefully guided him through the living room and hurried him past the kitchen, where the food I’d picked up before going to get him was warming in chafing dishes.  I slowed down once we were in our bedroom and let him open his eyes once we were in the dressing area.

Dean glanced around and then up at me.  “So now what?”

“Now it’s time to wash up and get changed.”  I kissed him lightly before grasping the bottom hem of his short-sleeved Henley and tugging it up.

He raised his arms to allow me to pull the shirt off completely, then gazed up through his long lashes.  “You gonna join me in the shower?”

“Of course!”  This time I gave him a deeper kiss and then started on the buttons of his jeans.

I helped him to finish undressing, remove the boot, and wrap the cast in plastic and quickly stripped myself.  Once in the shower, we first concentrated on cleaning ourselves and took turns lathering each other up with shampoo and body wash and then scrubbing and sluicing each other down.  Only after we’d finished rinsing off did we move into each other’s arms.

The first few days after coming home from the hospital, Dean had been too sore to consider anything other than finding which positions to sit or lie down in with the least amount of discomfort, so we did little more than kiss and sleep together with him cradled in my arms.  After about a week of rest and recuperation though, we’d begun cautiously experimenting to see how much lovemaking he could handle without causing him pain or wearing him out.  Though he was feeling significantly better by now, we still hadn’t progressed past my giving him hand jobs, either of us pleasuring the other orally, or some slow-paced frottage.

At the moment, we exchanged languid kisses under the spray of hot water and leisurely rubbed our members together.  Dean was leaning against me with his arms around my neck and my hands on his hips, so that I was supporting most of his weight.  We sighed into each other’s mouth as our cocks slid against each other, and I let my lips wander across his jaw and down his neck.

Before we could get much further however, I reluctantly stepped back.  The risk of him slipping and hurting himself was too high if we tried to do anything athletic in here, nor did I want him on his feet without boot or cane for longer than necessary.  Therefore we got out of the shower and dried ourselves hurriedly, and he made no protest this time when I picked him and carried him to the bedroom.

As soon as I had him laid out on the bed, I bent over his groin and swallowed him down.  The omega mewled and dug his fingers into my hair while I sucked and swirled my tongue around his shaft.  I used all of my considerable experience to swiftly bring him to climax, and he spurted down my throat with a hoarse shout.  I then moved up until I was straddling his shoulders and fed the head of my cock into his mouth.  He suckled on my glans while I rapidly stroked my length, and soon I groaned and ejaculated, painting his plush lips with stripes of white.

I’d fed on his passion just enough to make him drowsy, and he dozed off as I cleaned both of us up.  I pulled the covers over him and left him to rest while I went about the rest of my preparations.  I got dressed and first went out onto the balcony running along the back wall of the bedroom to decorate.  Once it was set up to my satisfaction, I retrieved the chafing dishes and the bottle of wine chilling in the fridge and brought them out as well.

It was perhaps half an hour after Dean had first fallen asleep when I gently shook his shoulder.  “Hey Dee, wake up!”

“Wha . . . ?”  He blinked up at me groggily.  “Did I fall asleep?  Sorry ‘bout that, man.  Hope I didn’t mess up what you got planned!”

I smiled down at him.  “No, it’s fine.  This gave me time to finish getting everything ready.  Now it’s time to get up and get dressed though.”

He yawned and sat up, then looked over the pale blue silk shirt and silvery-grey slacks I was wearing.  “Guess this ain’t gonna be a t-shirt and jeans-type affair, huh?  Okay, let’s get me prettied up then!”

After helping him change into a hunter green button-down and black pants, I led him to the balcony.  He stopped and stared in surprise at the scene before him.  Fairy lights were wrapped around the railing, bathing the space in a soft glow.  Some of the flowering potted plants had been moved from the terrace and arranged in scattered groupings, and vases of cut flowers rested on the various tables out here.  The small patio table in the corner was draped in a snowy linen tablecloth and set with our finest china, silverware, and crystal.  A pair of lit candlesticks flanked the small vase in the center of the table, and additional candles in tall candelabras stood in the corners of the balcony.  Several chafing dishes and an ice bucket with the bottle of wine sat on a serving cart nearby.  At the other end of the balcony, his iPod was plugged into a speaker dock on the end table between the wicker armchairs and played his favorite classic rock songs.

“Wow dude, you _seriously_ went all out!” Dean commented breathlessly.  “Are you gonna tell me what the special occasion is yet?”

“You’ll learn soon enough, Dee.  But first let’s eat.”  I then pulled out one of the chairs for him with a flourish.  “I picked this up from that fancy steakhouse we went to once—but _this_ time there won’t be any interruptions from pushy douchebags!”

Once he was seated, I uncovered the chafing dishes and started to serve.  First was shellfish bisque with spiced ricotta, corn, and rock shrimp fritters, followed by truffled eggs with chanterelle mushrooms and parmesan cheese on brioche toast.  The main course was medium-rare Wagyu ribeye steaks with horseradish crème fraiche, served with creamed spinach with bacon, onion, and Boursin cheese and twice-baked potatoes with zucchini, chives, and smoked cheddar cheese.  Accompanying the meal was a bottle of five-year-old Chateau Palmer Margaux Bordeaux wine.  We finished with pear tarts with whisky caramel sauce, walnut oat crumble, and ginger-cinnamon ice cream and snifters of warmed Martell XO cognac.

After stacking the empty dishes onto the cart, we refilled our snifters and moved over to the armchairs.  I’d intentionally kept the conversation light over dinner, talking about sports, the latest books we’d read, and the most recent movies we’d watched.  But now I turned down the iPod and faced Dean with an intent expression.

He of course noticed immediately.  “So you _finally_ ready to spill the beans, Sam?”

I nodded, but instead of speaking I handed him a small wooden box about the size of a single watch case, which had been sitting on the table near the speaker dock.  His face was curious as he opened it and then turned puzzled.  Inside was a curved ivory amulet, carved with sigils on both sides, with a small piece of paper lying underneath.

He cautiously picked the amulet up.  “What _is_ this?”

“ _That_ contains the counterspell to disarm and unlock your collar.  The amulet goes over the front of the collar, and then I need to read the words on that paper to activate it.  It’s keyed to my voice and one-time use only,” I explained.

“How . . . how the _hell_ did you get this?” he asked incredulously.  “You . . . _please_ tell me you didn’t do something _really_ fucking stupid, like get someone to raid the goddamn vaults of the Security Commission!”

I laughed.  “No, nothing so _Mission: Impossible_!  You remember months ago when I promised that if I could find a way to free you quicker than by the standard route, I’d do that?  Well, some good came out of what that bastard Alastair did, because it _finally_ gave me the chance to make good on my word.

“Yesterday I met with the Council and basically gave them an ultimatum.  You see, all the time I’ve been spending going through that motherfucker’s files recently _hasn’t_ been to help Benny with his case—it’s been to gather grounds for a lawsuit on behalf of _everyone_ that assbag has ever illegally hurt.  I told the Council they could either meet my demands, or I’d sue _all_ of the people involved, including them for not stopping him.  And the first thing I asked for was your release,” I said.

“Goddamn, Sammy!”  Dean looked impressed.  “So how pissed off were they?”

I shrugged.  “They bitched and moaned that it was too soon, they had to follow the rules, this could set a bad example, and so on.  Though they did have to admit that you _deserved_ it, especially since Meg showed up with several of our friends to testify on your behalf about how well you were fitting into the community.”

“She did that?”

“Yeah, she told Lenore, Benny, Ellen, Crowley, and Rowena what I was planning, and they all came in support.  But what really clinched it was Crowley citing what’s referred to as the True Mate clause in our bylaws, which states that _nothing_ is allowed to get between true mates being able to bond.  Since he’d already proved that we’re soulmates, the clause meant the Council _had_ to set you free,” I admitted.

His brow furrowed.  “I ain’t ever heard of a law like _that_ before.”

“You probably wouldn’t outside of the supernatural communities—soulmates aren’t something the rest of the world really believes in, other than as a romantic trope.  Even if enough people did, they don’t have the means to prove who might be true mates, not without magic,” I pointed out.

“So they obviously decided to give you what you asked for after all that.”  He fiddled with the amulet as he spoke.  “Is there a catch?”

I shook my head.  “I’m probably not their favorite person right now, but that doesn’t matter much since I don’t plan to petition them for anything else anytime soon.  And they did agree to meet more of my requests than I expected.  They’re going to look into releasing some of the other surviving victims, the ones they deem ‘suitable.’  For the others and for the ones who didn’t make it, they’ll offer some monetary recompense to their owners.  And the Council did promise that if the investigation into Alastair’s affairs turned up illegal activity from the Market or anyone else, they’ll follow up on that too.”

“You did good, man!  You got me sprung, helped a buncha other people, _and_ managed to stick it to those Market douchebags!  I ain’t even mad that you didn’t say nothing all this time, since the surprise is _totally_ worth it!  So how do we wanna do this?”  He held the amulet out to me.

I took it from him and fitted it over the collar, right where it rested at the base of his throat.  I plucked the slip of paper out of the box and recited the Latin phrase printed on it.  The amulet glowed briefly, and then we heard a loud click.  I removed the now dull trinket, carefully spread the collar open, and set both down on the end table.

Dean felt at his bare neck, his eyes wide with wonder.  “ _Sonofabitch_!  I—I didn’t think I’d be free of that damn thing for a _long_ time!  I dunno what to say . . . ‘cept _thanks_ , Sam.”

I smiled and took his hands.  “No need to thank me, Dee.  This is simply righting something that should never have happened in the first place.  And . . . now that you _are_ —”

“I hope you ain’t ‘bout to say something _really_ dumb, like how I can ditch you now if I wanna,” he interrupted with a stern gaze.

Since I _had_ been about to say something to that effect, I quickly swallowed my words.  “Of—of course not!  You’d smack me silly if I did.”

“Damn straight!  You should know by now that a lot more than _that_ piece of shit is keeping me here.  I _love_ you, you great big doofus!”  He leaned forward and punctuated his statement with a fierce kiss.

I returned his kiss and sat back.  “I love you too, Dee.  And I _do_ trust your feelings for me.  I guess . . . there’s a tiny part of me that still can’t believe you’re willing to overlook all the shit I’ve put you through, and sometimes it takes over.”

“Well, you fucking ignore that crap when it tries to do that, Sammy!  I forgave you for the overprotective bullshit a while back, ‘specially since you didn’t _mean_ to hurt me.  And you _ain’t_ to blame for what that dickwad Alastair did, you got that?  All that matters now, all that’s _ever_ mattered, is that we’re together,” he told me firmly.

I squeezed his hands gratefully.  “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Dean grinned in response.  “Yeah, I do.  So is there anything else we hafta do to make this official?”

“Well, I have to return the amulet and collar to the Security Commission.  And you have to get your wrist tattooed, like Charlie, Ellen, and the other humans in the community, as soon as possible—they gave me a list of tattoo parlors you can use.  I have copies of your signed manumission papers, and you should keep a set with you whenever you go out, at least until you get the tattoo,” I said.

“Aw man, I was hoping we could just _burn_ this hunk of junk!  Okay, gimme the list so I can make an appointment to get the tat.  I should also call Bobby tomorrow to tell him the awesome news.  This weekend we hafta go somewhere outta town, just ‘cause we _can_.  And then I _really_ gotta find a way to thank everybody for all the help they’ve given us.  In the meantime though, why don’t we head inside to _celebrate_ properly?”  He waggled his eyebrows and started to rise.

I caught his arm before he got to his feet.  “Wait a minute, man!  There . . . there’s something else I—I want to ask you.”

“No problem, dude.  So what is it?”  He sat back down and looked at me expectantly.

I moistened my lips nervously and took a deep breath.  “It’s been less than five months since we first met, and for a regular couple, what I’m about to do would probably be considered hasty.  But of course our relationship has _never_ been ‘normal.’  We’ve been through a _lot_ in these few months—from starting out as master and slave, to slowly becoming friends and eventually more, to dealing with the lingering effects of your past and my insecurity, to learning to truly trust and support one another, and finally overcoming enemies trying to separate and hurt us.  Throughout all of this, we’ve done our best to help each other, stand by each other, and make each other stronger and happier.  We both agree that we’re it for each other, and finding out we’re soulmates only cements that.

“I saw this a few weeks ago and thought it was perfect for you, but I needed to wait for the right time to ask this.  And now that the impediment of you technically still being my property is gone . . .”  As I spoke, I pulled a small, velvet-covered box out of my pocket and opened it.

Nestled inside was an antique-style diamond-and-platinum engagement ring.  The brilliant-cut center stone, which was nearly two carats in size and almost the same dazzling green as his eyes, was set flush into a smooth ring of platinum and flanked by three smaller round gems of the same hue and clarity on each side.  Most of the rest of the platinum band was engraved with leaf and vine designs, and inscribed on the inside was the phrase, _Fuck these bullshit rules_.

I plucked the ring from the box and offered it to him.  “Dean Winchester, would you do me the honor of becoming my mate?”

He stared speechless at the ring for several moments, and his eyes when he finally lifted them were glistening with tears.  “Sammy, I . . . Being with you has been the best time of my life.  Even when things were rocky between us, it was _still_ better than anything I had before.  To spend the _rest_ of my life with you . . .”  He trailed off, overcome by emotion again.

Before I could say something, he firmed his jaw and clasped my hand, “Sam Campbell, _nothing_ would make me happier than to be your mate!”

“You’ve made me the luckiest man alive now, Dee.  There isn’t _anything_ I wouldn’t do for you!”  And with that, I slid the ring onto his finger, pulled him into my arms, and kissed him passionately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks, at least for now. We've watched Sam and Dean go from a rocky start as master and slave to friends, then lovers, and now fiancés. I want to thank all of you for sticking through not only what turned out to be a far longer fic than I expected but also one of the slowest burns I've seen! :D The eventual sequel will pick up with wedding plans, the aftermath of Alastair's fall, the reunion with little brother Sammy, and more.
> 
> Dean's engagement ring was based on this, though it's been enlarged for a man's finger and has better-quality stones (and therefore is much more expensive--nothing but the best for Sam's omega!): 
> 
> https://www.jewelrypoint.com/1-97ct-fancy-green-diamond-engagement-ring-antique-style/
> 
> I wanted something different than the typical engagement ring and went with green diamonds because I was told by a jeweler many moons ago that engagement rings should only use diamonds, sapphires, or rubies since all other gemstones, including emeralds, are too soft to be worn every day. As for the inscription, I initially thought about using one of the many amazing Wincesty lines from the show, like the ones I've used as titles for some of my other stories. But I decided that "Fuck these bullshit rules," which Lenore told to Sam twice, was more fitting for the boys' relationship.
> 
> There's been a change of plans regarding the next part of the series. I got a lot of positive responses to the idea of seeing this story from Dean's POV, and I decided it made more sense to write that first before moving on to the sequel, which might then alternate between both of their POVs. I don't know when you'll be able to start reading Dean's version--which will be titled The Struggle Within (another song title from Metallica's Black album)--as I've only just started writing it and want to have a decent buffer of chapters before I start posting. Plus I need to work on the next part of my shifter!Dean series, which has been on hiatus all year thanks to stupid chemo brain not letting work on more than one story. So it's going to be a few weeks before you'll see anything new from me unfortunately. If you'd like to get notifications when The Struggle Within starts, I recommend subscribing to The Black Album 'Verse series--or to my user profile to notifications for anything I write.
> 
> In the meantime, I have several other completed stories here on AO3 if you're interested. There's the aforementioned shifter!Dean series, The Monster That You Know, which currently has 4 finished parts and is set in late Season 5 (and has some A/B/O-like aspects). One of the 2 stand-alone stories is also A/B/O and set in mid-season 9, while the other is a Wincesty take on the Pilot episode. If you decide to check any of these out, I'd love to hear what you think--I love getting and responding to comments on my older fics just as much as the newer ones. And of course please let me know if you liked how this story ended if you can. :)


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